A Question of Unity
by Alaia Skyhawk
Summary: Shadows lurk beneath the golden glow of peace, and trouble stirs in the west of Albion. For when one foe ceases to cast their shadow, another will rise to take their place, and spur the call of Unity (Sequel to A Question of Decisions)#Season6#
1. A Kingdom at Peace 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well, here it is! I'll leave of chatting and just let you all get reading, hehehehe! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**Summary: Fate has been woven into a bright road, where Morgana no longer seeks destruction, and Mordred has embraced a path of light. But shadows lurk beneath the golden glow of peace, and trouble stirs in the west of Albion. For when one foe ceases to cast their shadow, another will rise to take their place, and spur the call of Unity.**

**~(-)~**

Chapter 1: A Kingdom at Peace ~Part 1~

Looking out the window at the city below, where streets bustled with people who went about their daily errands with confidence and smiles, it was hard to believe that two years ago this city had shivered under the shadow of impending war. Where the common folk had huddled in their homes at night, listening for the alarm bells or waiting for the sounds of knights and soldiers heading to do battle.

Camelot was so bright and peaceful now, every day seemed almost better than the last, and certainly tomorrow was a day that many people living in the castle were looking forward to... Because Sir Gwaine was going to be married, to a noblewoman from Caerleon no less. Not long after the battle of Camlann, he had at last openly admitted to being the son of a Knight of Caerleon. Within a month of that revelation, Queen Annis had invited him to visit her court and granted him his rightful title. And it was during that visit that he had met Lady Viridiana.

Moving away from the window and out of his chambers, Merlin smiled to himself at that thought. Gwaine may like to save 'damsels in distress', but in truth every woman he had seriously flirted with, had been one with spirit and courage. Even the ill-fated Eria, Morgana's spy, who had by law been executed after their return from Camlann. Gwaine had remained hurt by her betrayal, even if he'd refused to admit it, but the warlock knew that from now on his friend was going to be happy.

Of course, that wasn't going to spare Gwaine some good-natured teasing. Nearing the games-room, where he knew Gwaine, Percival, and Leon would be, Merlin leaned against the wall outside the door and listened. Chuckling quietly at what he heard.

"Come on, Gwaine, cheer up. You've got a _wonderful_ time ahead of you, what with being married and no longer allowed to flirt with every pretty woman to walk by."

After Percival's ribbing of the knight, Leon joined in.

"And of course, no more going to the Rising Sun tavern every day either... Maybe we should take you there now. One last hangover, eh Gwaine?"

By the sounds of a small clatter, Gwaine had half-heartedly thrown something at one of them, before he spoke with considerable sarcasm.

"Ha ha, now you two are hardly ones to talk. I saw you, Percy, asking Gwen if she'd make a rag-doll for your little girl. Kid's barely over a year old, and she already has you wrapped around her finger. And you, Leon, you've been rushing home to your wife every night for the past week, waiting for your bairn to decide to make their appearance."

Merlin heard Leon grumble under his breath, for the knight's first-born was due any time now yet seemed to be in no hurry. Meanwhile, Percival laughed.

"Say what you want. We've both been married for more than a year, and you had your fun at our expense before our weddings. Now it's your turn!"

Leon laughed as well.

"We certainly will."

Gwaine's tone became one of feigned annoyance.

"Well then, I'll just have to salve my wounded ego by teasing Merlin or Mordred when time comes that one of them gets married."

Percival snorted.

"You'll be waiting a while then, by the looks of it. Mordred's dallied with a couple of girls, but never made a move on any of them, and Merlin hasn't show any interest in any of the fine ladies of Camelot, at all."

"Mordred's still only twenty, nearly twenty-one, he's got plenty of time to be picky. But Merlin's nearly thirty-four, he needs to make his mind up if he wants to have a family before he starts going grey."

The debate moved on to all the possible matches they could think up for their supposedly 'romantically challenged' Court Sorcerer, who incidentally slipped away down the hall rolling his eyes at their presumptions. Just because they'd never _seen_ him showing an interest in a woman, didn't mean he wasn't courting one.

Merlin smirked to himself. He couldn't wait to see their faces, when they eventually found out how long he'd been courting Katryn right under all of their noses. Gwen was still the only one who knew, and she's been _most helpful_ in helping with perfectly plausible excuses for her maid to be spending time with Camelot's Court Sorcerer. Especially since Prince Balther was nearing his fifth birthday, and was now being taught some of the basic commands for directing Scild to do things. Those lessons alone, created whole afternoons where Queen, Maid, Prince, and Warlock would seclude themselves in the prince's chambers with instructions not to be disturbed.

Those days were the best. Gwen sitting with Balther, while the prince giggled and got Scild to fetch and place things around and about the room. All the white Merlin and Katryn could sit beside each other, him with his arm draped around her shoulder.

No... Gwaine and the others still had a long way to go before they'd learn just how sneaky their friend could be. But Arthur was going to kick himself the most, for not spotting the relationship, because he _did_ know just how sneaky Merlin could be. Yes, Merlin knew he was going to be teased once word did get out, but he could always argue back that they only knew because he'd told them. They'd never figure it out for themselves.

Still smiling to himself, Merlin headed for the Hall of Records, where he was due to meet up with Gaius and Lord Geoffrey for a casual chat. Gaius had retired now, with Liam now officially Court Physician, but he still assisted with the making of remedies and also with advice. But only for a portion of his day, for he had other things to be doing with his time these days.

Namely spending most of his time with Alice, who had finally been tracked down and brought to Camelot. They now shared what had been Merlin's room, with the main chamber continuing to serve as work and treatment room for Liam. They didn't mind at all, and in fact they enjoyed being of help to Liam, who certainly couldn't complain at having two master physicians who continued to teach and train him in all that they knew of the physician's and healer's crafts.

Merlin sighed in contentment at knowing his former guardian at last had his happiness with Alice. But in relation to Gaius having no formal duties these days, even Geoffrey had eased back a little, although for a different reason. That was because Geoffrey now had an apprentice, who was to be trained in all matters as to what books and documents the Hall of Records contained, and how and where they were categorised so they could be found. As for who that apprentice was?

Merlin entered the cavernous collection of bookshelf-crammed rooms, heading to where Geoffrey sat talking with Gaius. It was as he sat down with them to join that conversation, that the warlock caught a glimpse of his sixteen-year-old ward hurrying down one of the narrow aisles with an armful of books.

Daegal hadn't been impressed with the prospect of being trained to be the next Court Archivist, but Merlin knew his grumbling had just been for show. The former waif, after almost three years of lessons, was a fluent reader of both the current and archaic forms of the common tongue, and was also reasonably fluent in the Old Tongue, both due to being Merlin's ward.

It meant that Daegal could already correctly read the titles of most of the older books, a necessity when retrieving or re-shelving them. Geoffrey had already extolled to several members of the court, at how pleased he was with his new apprentice and the talent the boy showed for the role. And Daegal fair glowed at that praise, when he thought no-one was around to see him do it. There was also the fact that the Court Archivist was often asked to locate books for Merlin's research, and the prospect of one day indirectly working for his guardian who he idolised, gave Daegal great determination to succeed.

It showed, for those who knew what to look for, in the way Daegal would chatter about the interesting-sounding books he'd looked for or re-shelved on any particular day. It also showed in the cheeky grin he flashed Merlin's way as he worked, an occurrence that happened several times during the conversation being held at the table.

And when time came that Merlin made his excuses to leave, citing he has last minute preparations to complete before the wedding tomorrow, it was Daegal who poked his head around the Hall of Records door after Merlin had exited through it.

"Sneaking off to spend time with _her_ again, are we?"

Merlin glanced back at his ward, with one eyebrow raised and a small smile on his face.

"Unless you want me to make you bray like a donkey, you'll keep those comments to yourself."

Daegal grinned.

"I still can't believe you've managed to keep it quiet for so long."

Merlin folded his arms across his chest, giving the teenager a long look.

"That's because I'm very good at hiding things in plain sight. So if word _does_ get out, I'll know who let it loose. Won't I?"

Daegal laughed and vanished back into the Hall of Records, leaving Merlin to go off and 'consult' with Katryn about what she thought would be the best spells to keep flowers of the wedding garlands looking fresh.

After all, this was one of their friend's wedding they were preparing for. They _had_ to make sure it was perfect, didn't they?

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Just a little intro chapter, setting the scenes and all that jazz. I hope you guys liked it :)**

**And a little bit of trivia for you. The name of Gwaine's wife-to-be is a little play on his legend. 'Viridiana' means 'green', and Gwaine is the 'Green Knight' hehehehehehe!**


	2. A Kingdom at Peace 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the second chapter, guys. GWAINE'S WEDDING WOO!**

**And a forewarning, in that this first 'episode' is going to be relatively short. I honestly don't have a lot I can cram into this first segment. The longer chapters will come with the episodes that have action etc in them :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 2: A Kingdom at Peace ~Part 2~

The bells tolled cheerfully, announcing to the city that the wedding was beginning inside the castle. That the big day of one of Camelot's most popular knights, was now under way. Nobles gathered in the Great Hall, along with a number of commoners who Gwaine had insisted also be invited. There were even a handful of nobles from Caerleon, distant cousins of his, there to witness the day.

Merlin allowed himself a wry smile at that, since he knew that the only reason those cousins had come, was because Gwaine was a Knight of Camelot and held huge respect with a great many powerful people. But if the cousins thought that by being here they could gain some powerful connections of their own, they were sorely mistaken. No one of the ranks they hoped to impress, would give more than a blandly polite 'sorry, but I have more important things to tend to'.

Merlin looked forward to seeing those fellow's disappointed and frustrated expressions when they had to return to Caerleon in a few days. But then his thoughts were set aside, as the doors of the Great Hall opened and Gwaine was escorted up the aisle by Leon and Mordred, while Arthur, Gwen, and Balther watched from the thrones upon the dais. And then, a few minutes later, the doors opened again to allow the bride to enter.

Lady Viridiana, or 'Lady Viri' as she preferred to be called, looked resplendent in her gown of cream-coloured silk, with her auburn hair coiled in rings of braids that were threaded with flowers. Gwaine was transfixed by the sight of her, to which Merlin spotted a hint of an amused smile on Viri's face. She was a noblewoman of good grace and modest standing, but for all her courtly behaviours, she didn't put on airs. He'd also witnessed in the few months she'd lived in the citadel, that she had perfected putting Gwaine in his place without him being the slightest bit offended.

Of course, Merlin knew that Gwaine found her quips to be charming. He also knew that Viri considered Gwaine to be 'sweet when he wants to be, and entertaining at all other times'. The two of them were a perfect match; she would keep him in line during formal occasions, so he wouldn't embarrass himself with social errors, and they both thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

And the smile on Gwaine's face as he watched her walk towards him, showed that no amount of teasing from his friends was going to dampen this day for him.

Arthur rose to his feet when Viridiana reached Gwaine's side, and strode forward to stand in front of them.

"Citizens and guests of Camelot. We have gathered here today to witness this union between Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot, and Lady Viridiana of the House of Falwren."

Merlin smiled to himself as the ceremony continued. Arthur had presided over Leon and Percival's marriages as well, and Merlin hoped that Arthur would do the same for him once the day had come when he'd finally plucked up the nerve to ask Katryn. But right now, as close as the two of them had become, he was still wary of pressuring or rushing her. He wanted to be sure he wouldn't scare her off, before he asked _that_ question.

The gathering of people began to clap and cheer, jolting him from his thoughts to join in as Gwaine and his new wife were now presented to the people, their vows now made.

The guests began to file out, and before Gwaine's cousins could get close to him, Merlin imposed himself in the way first to talk to his friend.

"Congratulations, Gwaine. Good to see you've finally got someone to make you behave. They're going to miss you at the Rising Sun Tavern. You were their best customer."

His arm around Viri's shoulders, Gwaine smirked and flicked the end of the warlock's nose.

"You're one to talk. Get yourself a girlfriend, Merlin, or people are going to think you want to marry your books."

Viri reached up and tugged a strand of her husband's hair.

"Stop teasing him, or he might turn you into a toad and then where would I be?"

Gwaine grinned.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that at all. For a kiss from you, my princess, would restore me to your side."

"If you think I'd kiss a toad, even if it were you, you are sadly mistaken."

There was a glint of mischief in her eyes as she said it, and Gwaine pouted in mock hurt. More members of the Brotherhood came over now, creating an effective wall between the knight and his cousins, who turned and left to obviously bide their time until this evening's feast.

Merlin watched them go, and smirked ever-so-slightly. He'd arranged to have them sit at an isolated side-table, very close to the doors. It was as draughty and as far from those they wanted to impress, as he could put them. The excuse for putting them there, was that there were far far more important guests attending, who merited being sat close to the High Table. Being a distant cousin to the groom, didn't outrank knights from various kingdoms, or priests and priestesses, and Druid representatives, who were also attending.

Arthur must had spotted that smirk, for as the group of friends headed out of the Great Hall, he fell into step beside his Court Sorcerer.

"Keeping the opportunistic relatives away from him, are you?"

Merlin glanced at him, keeping his voice low so no one else would hear.

"We both know those cousins are only here to try gain favour. They would have known about Gwaine when he was a child, before his father died, but when that happened they didn't lift a finger to help him or his mother, who was common-born. They only 'care' about him now, because he's one of the most vaunted Knights of Camelot. They wouldn't care two sticks and a mud puddle about him otherwise."

Arthur nodded at that, and then nudged Merlin lightly in the ribs.

"Good thing he has you keeping a look out for him then. And, speaking of Gwaine, he has a point about you not having a lady friend to court. You're definitely taking your time."

Merlin considered it for a moment, and then smirked as he leaned close to whisper.

"And who's to say I _don't_ have a lady friend that I'm courting. You were so blind, that you didn't see me using magic in front of you for three years before you found out... I've been courting my 'fair lady' for almost as long, and so far only Gwen has noticed."

Arthur stopped in his tracks and stared at him, the rest of the group continuing on to the feast oblivious to the two of them lagging behind.

"_You're courting someone?_ And Gwen knows who?"

Merlin drew himself up, looking smug.

"Yes, and I'm not going to tell you who until I ask her 'the question', which shouldn't be too much longer, I hope. I can't begin to tell you how idyllic it's been, to be able to enjoy a relationship without being teased about it by you lot." He pointed a finger at Arthur. "And if you try to tease me _after_ I tell you all, I can just point out that none of you noticed until I did. It makes all of you look rather silly."

Arthur gave him a flat look.

"You do realise that I'm not going to stop trying to figure out who your lady is, don't you?"

Merlin grinned, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

"You can _try_. And don't bother asking the Queen, because she won't tell you either. She thinks how oblivious you've been, to be as funny as I do."

Arthur reached out to ruffle Merlin's hair in retaliation, causing the warlock to make the king's hair stand on end with a gust of wind. The result was that both of them had to hastily neaten their hair and straighten their clothes before entering the feasting hall, leaving those inside there none the wiser to the bit of rough-housing that had gone on.

Throughout the feast, the speeches, and the musical and magical entertainment, Merlin saw Arthur glancing about the room at the various unmarried ladies present, trying to figure out which of them could be his friend's love interest. The attempt made the warlock chuckle inwardly, because if Arthur had ever thought to look over his shoulder, the lady he was looking for was standing just three feet behind his wife.

Katryn saw that glint of mischief in Merlin's eyes, glanced from him to Arthur and back again, before a tiny smile of her own tugged at her mouth. And then, with the hour being late, she stepped forward to murmur to Gwen.

"Shall I go prepare your chambers, My Lady?"

Gwen looked at her and nodded.

"Yes, if you would. It is past my son's bedtime, and he should really be taken to his rooms."

Merlin rose to his feet.

"I'll take him. He loves his 'Uncle Merlin', anyway. I'm his favourite playmate, other than Scild."

Gwen gave Merlin a long look.

"That may be true, but no games tonight. The prince needs his _sleep_."

Gwen planted a kiss on Arthur's cheek and Merlin picked up the clearly sleepy prince. The four of them then left the feast and proceeded to the nobles' wing, whereupon Gwen lifted her son from Merlin's grasp to take the boy to his room and nursemaid.

Meanwhile Merlin tugged Katryn into the nearby alcove, triggering the concealment spell anchored within it to hide them from view.

She smiled at his chuckling, laying a finger playfully across his lips.

"You've been teasing the King, haven't you. You told him that you're courting someone."

Merlin rest his forehead against hers, smiling.

"He'll still never figure out who. The answer was stood behind him all evening, and he didn't even _once_ turn around."

Katryn put her arms around Merlin, pulling him closer.

"And I, for one, am glad it didn't take _you_ so long to notice me."

He kissed her, and the two of them were still kissing when Gwen returned and paused outside the alcove. Even if she could not see or hear them, she knew they were there.

"If you would kindly release my maid, it's time that I went to bed. You can dally some more tomorrow."

There was a muffled giggle as the spell in the alcove was released, and Katryn emerged looking only slightly ruffled as she fell in to step behind her friend.

But Merlin remained where he was, watching them go, before his hand sought out a small pouch in one of his pockets. His fingers closing on the outline of a ring, before he sighed quietly to himself.

"You've faced down dragons, Saxon hordes, and even the undead, Merlin... How hard can it be to ask a single question?"

And the answer to that would be 'harder than it looks'. And Merlin wasn't going to tell anyone that he'd had the ring in his pocket for almost two years... Not even _Arthur_ had waited that long to ask Gwen, after the time came that he was King and was free to marry her if he wished.

No, Merlin wasn't going to leave himself open to the teasing _that_ little revelation would cause. That he'd hidden his courting of Katryn for over two years, was no defence against the fact he'd been trying to pluck up the courage to ask her to marry him since shortly after the Battle of Camlann.

But it would be soon, he was sure of that. He wouldn't keep her waiting for much longer.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: If I say that I've changed my 'event 7' and put it as 'event 3', my friend Julie will probably be able to figure out what I'm going to do. Trust me when I say that you guys are going to love it :)**


	3. A Kingdom at Peace 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: And here's an update from LONDON! Yep, I'm on holiday at my friend's house again, and today we will be joined by none other than Julie Winchester, a fellow FFnet writer!**

**This holiday is practically turning into an FFnet convention hehehe!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 3: A Kingdom at Peace ~Part 3~

Merlin ascended the stairs to his chambers, his hand still clutched around the ring in his pocket. He couldn't help but curse his continued hesitation to ask Katryn to marry him, but the combined fear of scaring her off or placing her in danger, kept him from doing so.

It had been one thing to encourage Arthur and Liam to ask their lady loves to marry them, when they'd been the ones scared of placing them in danger, because he'd reassured them that he'd keep them safe. It was entirely different when trying to convince himself that he would be able to keep _his_ loved one safe.

A rather sad fact, in light of the point he was the most powerful wielder of magic who would ever walk upon this world.

Merlin entered his chambers, immediately ambushed by Friou who crooned in concern at his subdued state. He petted her, relaxing against the comfort that was her scaled side, and sighed.

"I always seem to make things more complicated for myself than I need to. I've spent so long worrying about the happiness of others, that when it comes to my own happiness I keep getting stuck."

Friou crooned again, and rubbed her head against his shoulder, prompting him to scratch her under the chin.

"There are times when I wish I could just walk away from this, take Katryn with me, and be a simple farmer somewhere. With nothing to worry about but the weather, and growing enough crops to keep food on the table." He sighed. "But then I'd worry about everyone here, and about all the people who look to me for leadership and guidance. I can't walk away, and to be honest, deep down, I don't want to even if part of me does wish for a quiet life."

He moved away from her, going to his desk to quickly scribble a note. He left it on the main table, where he knew Warren would see it in the morning, before heading out the door and gesturing for Friou to follow.

"But that doesn't mean I can't spent a bit of time doing the next best thing."

They went out onto the battlements, where Merlin clambered astride her shoulders and sent her winging out into the night. They flew south, towards what had been the Darkling Woods. Merlin had insisted on them being renamed, since they were hardly the dark and dangerous place they'd used to be. Although still, only a fool would go there without a druid as an escort, since the Serket still lived there and made an admirable natural deterrent against bandits.

They were the Druid Woods now, named in light of the several clans that had made their home there. They were a place of peace and meditation, kept under the watchful guard of the Storm Druids.

That being the other reason no bandits dared enter those woods. No one, and that was _no one_, in their right mind would cross a Storm Druid. They may have been relatively few in number, but after the Battle of Camlann word had spread of their ferocity. A few Kings had even sent messages, offering princely sums of money to any Storm Druid who might come and serve them as a personal bodyguard. Of course, those had always been politely declined. Money meant little to people who were by and large completely self-sufficient.

It was to them that Merlin now went, directing Friou to land in front of his tent in the main Storm Druid camp, and then heading inside. He flopped down onto his pile of furs and blankets, the wyvern curling up contentedly on a similar pile in the opposite corner, and with a sigh both of them went to sleep.

When morning came, it did so with a chorus of birdsong, which Merlin listened to without any inclination to move from his bed. It didn't matter that he had reports to deal with back at the castle, he could do those this evening, and there was no Council Meeting today. It was exactly the sort of day where Arthur would go off on a spontaneous hunting trip, so the warlock knew he could get away with his 'day off''.

...Except that, even out here in the woods with the Druids, he couldn't escape his responsibilities entirely.

When he emerged from his tent, wearing his Storm Druid garb as opposed to his usual clothes, Kalem was sat waiting on one of the logs outside. Ysyldra was with him, looking rather more fail these days in her old age, but the stubborn glint in her eyes said she was going to be the Mistress of Lore for a while yet.

Merlin inclined his head to them, and indicated they should speak. Kalem was the one to answer that silent question.

"We've had word in, from the three clans at the far northern reaches... Their leaders will be coming here, to see you, at some point over the course of the next few months. They are the last three."

Merlin twitched in surprise, and came over to sit on another of the logs.

"They are the _final_ three clans?"

Kalem nodded, and started to grin, while beside him Ysyldra regarded Merlin with pride.

"When they come, and you have convinced them as to your worthiness and wisdom, all of the Clans will have named you Raeswa... You will be, at long last, the Lord of All Druids."

Kalem raised his eyebrows, similarly impressed by the feat.

"And since you are already the Leader of the Old Religion, that means you will preside over both of the groups to which one or the other, almost all magic wielders look to for authority. You will be the Lord of All Magic in Albion."

Merlin stared at them, blanching slightly pale, before he let out a long breath and put his head in his hands.

"Is it so much to ask for a _single_ day where I can completely forget my responsibilities?" He raised his head again, and ran a hand though his hair in frustration before he glanced at them. "It's alright, I'm not irritated at you. This is good news, very good news, I just wish it could have come tomorrow when I wasn't hoping to sit and just be 'Merlin' for a while, instead of 'Lord Merlin' or 'Emrys'."

Ysyldra got to her feet, and came over to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Life's burdens are only that, if you _allow_ them to be. When you are weary of your duties, let yourself enter a state where you exist only in the moment."

Merlin sighed.

"If I could, I would. I just can't seem to stop worrying about other things."

Ysyldra frowned a little, then gestured to both young men.

"Get up. Kalem, go grab a couple of those staves from the rack inside the tent."

Kalem went to do so, while Merlin frowned.

"This this is for?"

The old woman man-handled him to the nearest clear area of ground.

"You two are going to spar, no magic, just staves, and you are going to focus on that. Kalem has gotten very good in recent years, practising with our clan. If you do not give him your complete attention, he will give you bruises to remember your error."

Kalem came back with the staves, and threw one to Merlin.

"Why do you think Arthur enjoys sparring with the Knights? It lets him forget, for a time, the burdens and worries of being a King. You've sparred in the past, for training or for fun, but now you're going to spar so you can 'let go' of what's bothering you and just 'be Merlin for a while'."

Merlin held the stave, looking at it and then the two of them, before a slow smile came to his face.

He stepped into a battle-stance, and gripped his weapon with both hands.

"Alright then, show me what you've got, Kalem."

The High Priest laughed, and in a blur of leather and wood, he swept in close to begin the match. Merlin blocked it, beginning to laugh also as he let his worries and frustration slip to the back of his mind.

All that mattered was this moment, here with friends. For now, the tension left Merlin and he was at peace with himself. Unheeding of his cares in this moment, nor aware of the real reason for his growing agitation.

For while he'd not noticed it consciously, his instincts were detecting the first stirrings of a new shift in fate. The interlude of peace was coming to its end, and a new trial for Camelot and Albion, was about to begin.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: FORESHADOWING! Heheheheheehe! :D**


	4. The Ties of Fate 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: This would have been up last week, but I've been a bit unwell and ended up sleeping it off during a lot of my free time. But, the chapter's here now, I guess it's better late than never :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 4: The Ties of Fate ~Part 1~

Although the day was overcast, it was warm with the promise of summer, and the smell of warm, damp earth filled the air around fields which were lush with young crops. The villagers who tended them, did so with the air of contentment which came when the growing conditions were perfect. It was going to be a good crop this year, good enough that it was likely there would be extra they could sell.

None of them expected what was coming, not here. For even if they were close to the border of Camelot, they were close to Escetia as well and only those who were mad would ply trade as bandits in this region. But here, south of the Forest of Ascetir, this village and a handful like it were all fairly new.

All had sprung up after Arthur had become King, and signed the alliance with King Fyrendir. This area, once considered dangerous, was supposed to now be a haven of opportunity, and it had been... until now. For to the south, near the border with Nemeth, lands considered too treacherous to travel on horse or by foot, had provided a corridor for they who had the tenacity to take advantage of that gap in Camelot's defences.

There was no warning when the Saxon raiders slunk over the ridge to the south, and no chance for the villagers to escape. For no sooner than the alarm was raised, than the other half of the raiding party, flanked the village and attacked.

It was like a scythe reaping corn, the swiftness and brutality with which the civilians were cut down. But once screams of agony had died to moans and then silence, the leader of the attackers stood and silently began to inspect with his gaze, the homes, fields, and livestock which belonged to the settlement.

A small smirk came to his face, and a malicious glint to his hard, blue eyes. His long blond hair tied back into a horse-tail as fierce as the manner with which he'd ordered the villagers' murder.

"A prosperous settlement, rich with crops and livestock and well-made homes... And this is but the _borderlands_ of Camelot, an area where the poorest tend to gather. The rumours of Camelot's wealth are clearly no exaggeration... My father will be pleased with this news."

He turned to face his men, still smiling.

"Take what we need from their barns to replenish our supplies, and then burn the rest." He set off towards the edge of the village, his men bowing in response to his orders as if he were a prince. "As for the corpses, leave them to rot."

The men scrambled to obey, scouring the village for supplies, and before even an hour had passed they were gone... Only a plume of smoke from the burning homes, remaining behind.

~(-)~

"Now you see there? That rune represents the letters 'e-r-e', which for this rune the Scribes of the Glendray pronounced as 'ee-ray'. That tells you that the word is a delayed action, or meant in past-tense, because the 'ray' sound is always past or delayed-tense when placed on the end of a word."

Merlin had a smile of quiet contentment on his face, as he taught the vagaries and finer points of reading records produced by the Scribes of Glendray, to his moderately reluctant ward. Those scribes had been renowned during their unexpectedly short existence within the flow of history, what with them all being tragically slain barely twenty years after their founding.

There had only been perhaps two dozen of them, roaming the lands and documenting what they saw, and they had agreed to meet up once every two years to hand over their writings to those scribes who remained behind to properly transcribe them into ledgers. Those who produced those ledgers, had remarkably created a runic language to guard their knowledge against misuse, teaching it only to a trusted few who would then go forth and use the gathered knowledge to teach men wisdom that had been gleaned from the follies of their fellow men.

But some foolish and arrogant lord had decided that the scribes must have gained military knowledge about his neighbours, whose lands he coveted, and he'd invaded their sanctuary with the intent to take that information for himself. He waited until all of the scribes had returned from their travels, and then had them slaughtered before forcing one of their interpreters to teach the language to a man of his choosing.

But after all that, instead of finding the military information he desired, he found they had done little but record simple daily events in most cases, and most often about commoners rather than those of more lofty ranks. The remaining interpreters had gathered up the ledgers once the lord had abandoned them in disgust, and went on to teach the language to as many as they could. Copies of the books were also made, and most of the kingdoms across Albion had a set of them somewhere in their archives.

Camelot was no exception, and in fact had what was probably one of the only complete sets of the ledgers remaining in existence. But no one in the kingdom had been able to read them for centuries, that is until Merlin had been taught the language by one of the northern Druid clans.

He was now teaching it to Daegal, much to the delight of Lord Geoffrey. The Court Archivist had already begun making plans for translated copies of the books to be made, once the Court Sorcerer was sure his ward had fully mastered the nuances of the Glendrayn Scribes' penmanship. They whose death had provided the inheritors of their knowledge, with a powerful lesson regarding mankind's greatest folly... Greed.

Of course, Geoffrey would have asked Merlin to oblige with the task, but then both of them knew he couldn't dedicate the amount of time that would be needed for it. And so it would fall to Daegal, who was decidedly daunted at having such a significant project depending entirely on how fast and well he could learn the language required to do it.

Merlin continued the lesson for about half-an-hour longer, before he glanced out the window at the position of the sun, and nudged his ward to his feet.

"Right, time to get ready. We don't want to be late. I may dine with him regularly in his study, but it's not often someone gets an invitation for a _formal_ meal with the King... and this is your first time."

Daegal flinched, eyes widening a little like a cornered rabbit.

"Do I _have_ to go? Can't I just say thanks, but no thanks?"

Merlin grabbed his ward by the shoulder, and bustled him down the stairs to his room the floor below. Once there, he then began to manhandle Daegal into his best set of clothing.

"If you think I'm going to let you do that, then you're more of a half-wit than people around here say I was when I first arrived." Merlin shrugged, as he briskly erased the wrinkles from the boy's tunic before handing it over. "Besides, you've dined with Arthur before. Just not in the Council Chambers, with servants pouring the wine and serving the various courses of the meal. Don't be such wet blanket, Arthur almost never hosts meals like this for his friends if it's not some special occasion."

Daegal's tone took on a whining edge.

"Then why is he doing it _now?_"

"Because you're going to be helping make the first copies of the Glendrayn Ledgers, that _anyone_ who can read common, can read. Those tomes are the oldest known record of day-to-day life, its triumphs and tragedies, miracles and mistakes, that exists in Albion and probably the whole world."

Merlin placed a hand on his ward's shoulder. "For twenty years, they dedicated themselves to proving that you can learn from the small events, just as much and if not more than you can learn from the big events that are traditionally recorded. Scholars all over Albion respect them for that, even in these times where the old follies of recording naught but the deeds of nobles and the battles of kings, as being worthy history to remember. Mark my words, there will come a day when the Glendrayn Ledgers will be considered the most valuable record of the past to ever exist."

He started towards the door, Daegal reluctantly following him up the stairs beyond.

"Which only makes me feel even _more_ nervous about this. What if I translate them wrong?!"

Merlin glanced back at him.

"Don't worry, I can contact the clan who taught me. I'm sure one of them would be happy to come to Camelot and check over the translated Ledgers, before the finished copies are made and bound. I can look them over as well. It'll be fine."

The warlock left Daegal in the main room, while he proceeded into his sleeping chamber to change into his own chosen attire for the meal. Thus, within a few more minutes, the two of them were heading for the Council Chambers. And by the time the subsequent meal was halfway done, Daegal had gone from being intimidated and nervous, to chatting enthusiastically to Arthur and Gwen about how wonderful it was going to be to have the Glendrayn Ledgers translates so that anyone could read them.

It was just before the fruit for dessert was to be brought to the table, that the Council Chamber doors opened unexpectedly and a knight strode in. But it wasn't just any knight... It was _Tristan_.

Arthur was on his feet in moments, frowning in concern at the clear urgency in the man's arrival. Ever since Isolde's death and becoming a Knight of Camelot, Tristan had struggled with living in a castle so close to her grave. He'd been posted to the Ascetir Fortress for a long time now, rarely returning to Camelot except to pay respects each year to Isolde on the anniversary of her death. For him to be here now, the news had to be grave.

"What is it, Tristan? What have you to report?"

Tristan, still breathing hard from his long hard ride, and the dash up here from the stables, took a deep breath and answered.

"One of the new villages, south of the Forest of Ascetir... It has been attacked."

Gwen gasped, rising to her feet now as well.

"Were there any survivors?"

The knight shook his head, his expression grim.

"None, My Lady. Whoever did it, burned the houses and barn, slaughtered the villagers, and left them to rot where they fell. It does not look like the work of bandits, for a village destroyed is one that cannot be raided again the following year. If I were to suggest a motive, I would say it looked like a test of the Kingdom's defences."

Arthur's expression hardened, anger at deaths of the villagers, simmering in his voice.

"Give word to the men, I want extra patrols sent to the south-eastern border, and a squad prepared to ride out with me. We will ride at dawn."

Merlin got up now, giving a glance and a nod to Arthur before ushering Daegal out. It seemed the peaceful interlude was over, and perhaps a new enemy was beginning to make itself known.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Dun dun dun! There you have it. I'll see about getting the next part up in a couple of days :)**


	5. The Ties of Fate 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: And here's the next part :)**

**And ok, I will admit I got Writer's Block on this chapter. The first half had me stuck for AGES. Once I got past that, I sailed through it :S**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 5: The Ties of Fate ~Part 2~

When dawn came, the King's force rode out. Every man wearing either a solemn frown or a determined stare, as they turned south-east to take the direct route across country to the ravaged village. Even though the attackers would be long gone by the time Arthur and his men reached it, there was still a chance that their origins could be ascertained.

And while the assumption that the attackers were long gone, was one based in much experience over many years, in truth those foes lingered. They darted around the most unfriendly of the terrain south of the village, changing camp twice a day while scouts observed Camelot's reaction to the massacre...

The leader of the raiders sat beside one of the small camp-fires, which he'd permitted only because they had found dry wood that wouldn't smoke. As reckless as remaining in the area was, the information gleaned from the risk could potentially be more than worth the price.

Camelot was undisputedly the mightiest of all the Kingdoms of Albion, both in terms of its military might and also the sorcerers it could call upon. Camelot's army may not have been the largest in all the realms, but it was the best-trained, and the kingdom's Knights were a force to be reckoned with.

He mused to himself, with a scowl. If his father were to succeed in conquering Albion, then he would first have to conquer enough weaker realms to raise and support the size of army he would need to overthrow Camelot. Once that Kingdom fell, the rest would swiftly follow.

"Lord Cymen. The scout from the south-west has returned. He has found something that may be of interest."

Cymen rose to his feet to glare at the messenger.

"And what would that be?"

The subordinate flinched under his lord's cold stare.

"A cottage, hidden deep among the woods. Where naught but the trails made by the forest animals, lead."

Cymen's frown deepened, but not in anger. A cottage hidden away, in woodland where few if any people tread?

"Assemble a third of the men, and the scout. I want to see this cottage for myself."

~(-)~

It was nearing nightfall, only the tiring of the horses making them halt, as the group of men from Camelot at last stopped to set up camp. There was a sombre silence as they settled their mounts, and their thoughts were grim as the dwelt upon the fate of the village they were travelling to investigate. It had been so long since anything like this had happened in the kingdom, that it had proven to be a shock for them all.

Or at least most of them...

Merlin sat by one of the camp-fires, seeming more sombre than any of the rest of them. His was a sort of guilty silence, and it was one that soon had Tristan seating himself on the opposite side of the fire.

"I know you... You think you should have seen this coming, don't you?"

Merlin sighed.

"I'm not all-knowing, I can't see everything, and I accept that... But I've felt something for a few weeks now, an uneasiness that I ignored. If I'd said something, then perhaps the border patrols cold have been stepped up, and the village could have been spared."

Tristan shook his head in disbelief.

"You're not responsible for _everything_, Merlin." He gave the warlock a long look. "And forgive me for saying so, but the world does not revolve around you either. There are many who could say similar things for different reasons, that if they'd done something different, lives could have been saved... Spirits know, I've thought that myself often enough. That if only I had reacted faster, I could have stopped Helios from mortally wounding my love, Isolde."

A flash of guilt and helplessness flickered in Merlin's expression, at the reminder of how he too had been unable to save her, but he nodded.

"I understand, and you're right. Regretting the things we weren't able to do, to save, will only cause us to forget to consider the future. Isolde, and the people of the village, wouldn't want us to do that. It would mean their deaths were meaningless, that they were in vain." When Tristan remained quiet, it was Merlin's turn to give _him_ a long look. "You should stay in the city, after we return from this. Isolating yourself from her place of rest, won't make the pain go away. And if a new threat is rising against Camelot, we're going to need you at Arthur's side."

Tristan snorted.

"The King has plenty of good knights, who are all far more skilled in battle than a former smuggler like me."

"That may be true... but they don't have your experience of the ways of sneaking contraband past patrols. You know better than any of the rest of us, the sort of paths those raiders will have taken to enter and leave the kingdom." Merlin's expression became wry. "It's certainly no more strange a background, for a smuggler to become a knight, than it is for a peasant farm boy to become the Court Sorcerer of Camelot and Leader of the Old Religion. The most powerful sorcerer to walk these lands."

Silence fell between them again, but this time it was companionable rather than sombre. It was after several moments that Tristan smiled, if only a little.

"I promise, I'll think about it."

Arthur's voice carried out over the camp, interrupting further conversation.

"All of you but those on first watch, get yourself settled and to sleep while you can. I want us on the move again by dawn."

The men quickly obeyed, curling up in blankets with swords thrust into the ground at their sides in case of attack. But while they rested, in the remaining pale light of the day, another group was on the move.

Many miles away, Cymen followed his scout along a narrow game-trail. Deep into woods were the trees were so dense that to ride a horse among then would have been impossible without rendering it lame. It was the sort of forest that only the Druids would brave, lest some magical creature be lurking among the ancient and towering trees, and the thick undergrowth beneath them.

But up ahead, the darkness which had fallen beneath the forest eaves was broken by the pale light of dusk. Light which came in through a gap, one formed of an unusually large clearing among the trees.

They halted at the edge of that clearing, Cymen's eyes narrowing as he assessed what lay before him. A crude cottage lay tucked at the edge of the open space, surrounded with an equally crude fence of sticks and branches tied together with vines, which also enclosed a modest field of vegetables. The vast majority of the clearing, however, was empty but for the ragged stumps of trees which had been cut to make it, and between those stumps the earth was churned in places as if by plough or possibly... claw. But not only that, the fence and cottage displayed an additional clue as to the nature of the occupant.

There were charms, made of twigs and twine, hanging from eaves and fence, giving rise as to how such a flimsy barricade could protect the crops from the local animals.

Cymen frowned, considering his options. He had heard much of the magic which existed across most of Albion, but which had vanished long ago from the mainland that had once been his home. He had even seen a handful of hedgewitches, hedgewizards, and a couple of sorcerers of slightly greater power, and heard of the might of Camelot's Court Sorcerer, the 'most powerful warlock in all of Albion'... Even if he felt that that is was likely mere exaggeration by the storytellers who'd spoken of him.

But even the weakest wielders of magic required at least a little care when approaching their dwellings, for there was no telling what unpleasant enchantment might lay in wait for the careless trespasser. And so, rather than charge in as a raider, Cymen signalled his men to remain hidden before openly approaching the cottage as if he were a wayward traveller.

"Ho there, is anyone home? I was on my way north, but became lost. Is there anyone here who may point me in the right direction?"

There was silence as his call echoed and faded among the trees. Then, after a few moments, the door of the cottage opened cautiously.

A woman in plain homespun clothing emerged to regard him warily. But regardless of the poor quality of her clothing, her face, stunning black hair, icy blue eyes, and proud bearing were not those of a simple peasant or hedgewitch.

Cymen froze in his tracks as his eyes met hers, which seemed as though he stared into a bottomless pit of bitterness and pain. He then remembered another story he'd heard... About a witch, formerly a powerful High Priestess, who had been struck from her high mantle and had not been seen since. For here and now, face-to-face with this woman, his instincts screamed danger and he knew this was her...

The woman before him was Morgana Pendragon...

~(-)~

She had been sat within her humble and isolated home, with hands that were now calloused from mundane labours working with bone-needle and thread to mend a tear in a threadbare blanket. Where once she had lived in castles, and insisted on garbing herself in fine linens and silk, now she made do with leather, fur, and coarse wool.

Morgana Pendragon had fallen perhaps as low as it was possible for her to get, essentially becoming a hermit who hid from the rest of the people's of Albion until such as time as her face would become forgotten. With her broken will and spirit, her mind full of pain and bitter memories, this humble life had granted her the quiet she'd needed to begin to heal.

No more for her were the mighty spells she'd once wielded, with her only magic now being the cantrips and charms she used to light her hearth for cooking and keep her crops from being ruined. But here, with Aithusa's regular visits, she'd found peace...

Until the dreams had started, two nights ago.

Morgana's mouth twisted into a grim frown, as she mended the damage she'd done to her blanket upon waking up from one such dream just a short while ago. She'd felt tired, and gone to bed early, but awoken again before the sun had even set. Her gasps as she jolted from her visions, sounding harsh in the gloomy interior of her home.

_A man with blond hair and beard, his blue eyes harsh and filled with a greed for power that she knew all too well, flanked by three younger men that could only be his sons. She saw battles and death, she saw those sons and their father sending men out to conquer all before them in their name. She saw fires, the flash of spells, and at the end of the dream she saw Arthur... As old as Uther had been at the time of his death... She saw him confront the father and his sons, and strike them down. She then saw him sat upon Camelot's Throne, with the Kings of all the other Kingdoms of Albion, arrayed before him and bowed in display of their fealty..._

It was then that she'd woken, and in her flailing tore the blanket. Why she had been shown those events, which were clearly of the path and obstacles Arthur would face in order to complete his destiny, she didn't know. She only wished that she'd not had to see them at all.

It was then that she heard the call from outside, and cursed to herself that she should be stumbled upon here. But perhaps, with care, she could still hide her identity. After all, by his words, the man outside was simply lost...

Those thoughts fled her once she'd opened the door and stepped outside, to see the eldest of the three sons from her vision stood outside her fence. She saw the twitch in his expression, the dawning suspicion and then realisation of who she was, and a heartbeat later her magic told her of the dozen or so men concealed in the undergrowth behind him.

And then he spoke, confirming what she already knew. A statement that shattered whatever peace she'd felt she'd found here.

"Morgana Pendragon... I need not have ever met you before, to know you. None could mistake the countenance of the witch who led thousands to their deaths in her desire for Camelot's Throne."

Morgana tensed, raising a hand towards him in warning, and spoke in a voice gone hoarse from lack of use.

"Then you should know that you had best run, and forget you ever saw me, or you and the men behind you will not live to walk away from here."

The man smirked, as though he knew something, and boldly took a step towards the flimsy fence that stood between him and the cottage.

"I am Cymen, eldest son of Lord Aelle... And I think you are bluffing."

Morgana scowled, drawing herself up while keeping her hand facing him.

"I have killed hundreds with barely any effort at all. What makes you think I'm bluffing?"

Cymen stared her down, his manner confident and his gaze cruel.

"Because I see it in your eyes, and in the tremble of you hand." He laughed, once. "The mighty Morgana, terror and legend, now stands as a hermit in the woods... One who is now afraid to kill."

As the two of them stood there, facing each other across the simple fence, Morgana could not find the voice to deny it. For never again did she want to see the fields of battle, hear the screams of the wounded and dying.

Never again did she want to see the blood of others staining her hands.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: And the plot starts to thicken!**

**For those who are wondering, Aelle is the name of an actual Saxon king from within a reasonably close estimate of the era in which the show is set. He had three sons, Cymen ("K-eye-men"), Wlencing ("Len-sing" I'm assuming it's a silent "w"), and Cissa ("Key-sa"). All four will be part of my plot-line over the course of my Season 6 and Season 7 :)**


	6. The Ties of Fate 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Apologies for the long wait. I kept telling myself that I had to do a chapter of this before I would let myself do one for Frost & Moon, but the ideas for that were plaguing me causing writer's block on this one. So I ended up writing nothing for two weeks before giving in and doing a load of chapters for Frost & Moon.**

**Hopeful I've now got that out of my system lol.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 6: The Ties of Fate ~Part 3~

The two of them continued to regard each other from either side of the fence, the silence broken by no sound other than that of wind and birdsong. Morgana wanted to curse this moment, to curse that she would be so frozen in place by his words, but she had long since lost the ability to hate anyone, even herself. Her entire life had slipped into an apathy from which she didn't want to escape, because she was content in her isolation... And now a situation had arisen which forced her to do something.

She took a deep breath, shoulders slumped, but it wasn't in defeat. No, her next act wiped the smirk from Cymen's face and replaced it with an expression of surprise.

"_Besparre se beornthreat ne wilcuma_." Cymen was shoved firmly backwards until he was no longer in the clearing, and when he tried to enter it again an invisible wall blocked his way. Morgana then turned her back on him. "Go away, and waste no more of my time. I may refuse to kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't bar you from my presence. Leave before I decide to permanently gag you as well."

As she reached the door of her cottage and went inside, Cymen called out again.

"Do not think I have given up! King Arthur's men will soon be in this area, searching for the ones who burnt the nearby village. I'll give you until dawn to think about your options, before I perhaps arrange for a neat little trail to lead him to your door. I wonder how he'd react to that, to find his dear sister so close to the site of a massacre."

She could hear him laugh as he strode away with his men, Morgana stood braced against the inside of her door with a hand to her chest and apprehension in her eyes. How could it be fair that, even when she now sought to avoid all conflict, it still seemed to find her?

~(-)~

It the sight of the burn-out homes and barn were bad enough, the line of recently dug graves were worse. Added to the grimness of the scene was the shadowed expressions of the small group of men from the Ascetir Fortress, who had ridden ahead to meet the force from Camelot.

Arthur regarded the scene from atop his horse, his expression hardened into a frown. He'd not witnessed scenes such as this since prior to the Battle of Camlann, and it was like a kick to the gut after the unbroken peace since then.

"Let's set up camp, and begin searching the area in the morning. I don't expect we'll find the culprits after so many days, but perhaps we can discover who they were and warn our neighbours."

The men, as upset about this as he was, quickly set about doing as instructed. In the meantime, Tristan brought his horse up alongside the king.

"I can already tell, this wasn't the work of a professional army, but at the same time it doesn't seem the work of mere bandits either. The tracks can still be seen, over yonder. The village was attacked from two sides."

Arthur nodded.

"I agree. This certainly does seem more like someone is testing us, trying to gauge how we'll react. Someone with ambitions."

Both of them glanced to where Merlin stood nearby. The warlock had retrieved a pack from his saddlebags, and was now setting up the tools of his craft on top of a surviving section of stone wall.

"Then lets hope Merlin can find out that which mere tracks in the mud can't tell us."

Both of them dismounted, taking their horses to the picket-line being set up at the edge of the camp. Merlin glanced at them as they left, having just been able to hear what they'd said. He just wished he had the same confidence that he'd learn something, that they had in him. The traces were more than a week old, and it had rained during that time. The best he could hope for would be to do a wide-range scry of the area and get an overview, and use a spell to transfer what he learnt from that onto a map.

Sighing, he continued his preparations by setting up a scrying dish.

~(-)~

On the ridge to the south of the village, two of Cymen's men watched. Confused as the somewhat skinny man, who was an oddity among the broader shouldered warriors, began pouring water into a shallow brass basin. One hand resting on a sheet of parchment, the entire set-up placed within a ring of crystals and something drawn onto the wall with chalk.

It took a minute for them to realise that the man was a sorcerer, and that he was casting some sort of spell. They watched as he called one of the knights over and talked to them, gaining an immediate response. It was then that it occurred to them that this slender and unassuming man was almost certainly Camelot's Court Sorcerer. That thought made them nudge each other and laugh, to think so many people feared such a weak-looking man...

That lasted until they were ambushed from two sides by a pair of knights.

The two Saxons were dragged down to the village ruins, where Merlin continued his scrying and Arthur stood waiting.

The king eyed the two prisoners, frowning.

"Care to tell me what you were doing, spying on me and my men?"

Both Saxons scrambled for ideas, one of them starting to babble when Merlin left his basin and came to stand with a hand on each of their shoulders.

"W-we were just passing through the area, and saw you."

Arthur's frown deepened, after a glance at Merlin got a silent shake of his head in response.

"So you have no knowledge of what happened here, and had no involvement in it?"

"N-no, My Lord."

Again Merlin shook his head before releasing his hold on the men's shoulders, and he returned to his scrying. It was then that Arthur gestured to his knights.

"He lied to both questions. They were spying on us, and they were among those that attacked this village. Secure both of them, and see if you can learn where the rest of their allies are. If they refuse to answer, and if Merlin cannot locate them himself, then I guess we'll have to resort to interrogating them with magic."

Both Saxons cried out in fear and protest, begging as they were tied up and secured to a nearby post. It had been a stroke of luck that they'd been foolish enough to spy on the knights, Merlin had spotted them within moments of beginning his search. Their presence also meant fresh tracks, that would hopefully lead back to their camp-site and whoever it was they answered to.

The Saxons refused to answer any question they were asked over the course of the following two hours. But then as sunset began to near, the pleading for release that they had persisted in during that time, began to take on a desperate edge. There was a light of terror in their eyes, one that gave rise to certain suspicions for Arthur. Enough so that he began wondering if he should disturb Merlin's search.

In the end he didn't have to, for just as the sun began to set both Saxon's shrieked and went limp. The sound jolted Merlin from his concentration, bringing him over even as Arthur and the knights gathered.

Tristan crouched beside the pair, checking both for a pulse, then shook his head.

"Dead."

Merlin pushed through the gathering, frowning.

"Didn't you search them, and make sure to strip them of all items but their clothes?" The men around him nodded, and Merlin crouched down to do a search of his own. One that turned up a simple charm of sorts tied in amongst the hair of each of the two men. Merlin held them up. "Then you didn't search them properly."

As Merlin stood with the two offending items, Arthur approached him.

"What are they?"

The warlock grimaced.

"To put it bluntly, they hold a single-use spell to kill the wearer, usually triggered by a second charm which is paired with them. They're readily available to people willing to look hard enough. They're very simple, any half-decent sorcerer could make one, but the spell requires the consent of the wearer at the time the charm is bound to them. It's the only thing that prevents them being used for assassinations, although for the most part it's assassins who carry them. So that if they're caught, they can either kill themselves, or their employer can to protect their identity. They've been taboo for centuries."

Arthur inspected the spent charms when they were handed to him.

"So if they're taboo, why is it they can still be found?"

Merlin shrugged.

"So long as there are those willing to learn and practice dark magic, there will be those who are also willing to turn a blind-eye for a price in silver. I would guess whoever attacked the village, has all their scouts wearing these. If they don't come back from their patrol, they're assumed to have been captured and are killed to protect the group's secrets."

As Arthur grimaced and handed the charms back, Tristan glanced at the darkening sky and frowned.

"There'll be no searching for the rest of them today. We'll have to wait until morning."

Arthur nodded to that, and when he glanced at Merlin in silent query, the warlock answered.

"I haven't located them, but I've got a good idea of where they are. South by south-west, where the woods are cut by the beginnings of the crags and hills south of here. The tracks from those scouts lead in that direction, and my scrying has shown me a number of possible camp-sites in that area."

Arthur strode away, the knights parting to allow him to pass.

"Then all of you get some rest. We'll begin the hunt for them at dawn."

~(-)~

She tossed and turned in her bed, dreamless sleep giving way to visions. Images as strong as those of the previous day, powerful enough to cut through the protection of her healing bracelet. Threads of fate twinned and wove within her mind, showing many paths before a single one coalesced before her mind's eye.

_The same image as before, of the man she now knew was Lord Aelle, and his three sons. Battles and death she saw once again, at first believing them to be the same vision as before, but then everything shifted. Aelle did as previous, sending out his sons to conquer all before them, but this time she saw herself stood behind him among his men like a distant watcher. Witness to the events going on, but not directly involved in the battles. Just as before, she saw fires, spells, and kingdoms fall... but when the image of Arthur came, there before her was another stark difference._

_He was younger than in the other version of events, by a decade at least. Just as before, he confronted Aelle and his sons, and defeated them. Again she saw him sat upon Camelot's Throne, with the Kings of all the other Kingdoms of Albion arrayed before him in fealty. His destiny was unchanged by that one prior difference in events. It was unchanged but for the fact he achieved his destiny so much __**sooner.**_

Morgana jolted awake with a stifled scream, gasping for breath and shuddering. Dawn was still at least an hour away, with just the faint hint of false dawn revealed to her when she scryed the sky in a nearby basin. Her pounding heart sent her outside, out of the claustrophobic confines of her cottage, and there she saw the most welcome of sights.

Aithusa was in the open part of the clearing, curled up watching the cottage, and she raised her head as Morgana hastened over in distress.

"You are troubled. What's wrong?"

Morgana threw herself against the dragon's outstretched snout, clutching at her white scales with hands that trembled.

"I've been discovered here, by a Saxon man named Cymen; the son of Aelle. I-I saw him and his father, in a vision some hours before he discovered this place. He has threatened to lay a trail, to send Arthur this way from a village that was attacked along the valley."

The dragon twitched at her words, and then growled before speaking urgently.

"Then gather what belongings and supplies you will need, and I will carry you to a new place."

"But that's just it... I'm not sure if I should."

Aithusa lifted her head free of Morgana's touch, and regarded her in confusion.

"What exactly do you mean?"

Morgana gazed up at her, eyes haunted as they often were after her visions.

"I've just had another vision, of the same things, and yet they were different. In both I saw Arthur achieve his destiny, yet in the first he was as old as Uther was when he died... In the second he was much younger, he'd defeated Aelle and united Albion at least a decade sooner."

Aithusa blinked, understanding the implications.

"For Albion to be united sooner, means there would have been fewer battles against Aelle, and theoretically far fewer deaths among warriors and civilians alike. The people would also be under the shadow of war for a shorter time, with the earlier arrival of the Golden Age."

Morgana nodded, averting her gaze.

"And that is why I'm not sure I should run from here, run from Cymen."

There was a moment of silence, before Aithusa's eyes widened and she began to shake her head. Knowing the answer even before she asked her question.

"What was the factor in the two chains of events being different?"

Morgana brought her hands to her face.

"It was me... In the second chain, I was helping Aelle. Distantly, I wasn't taking part in any battles, but I was there and must have been providing his men with enchantments." She laughed bitterly. "The assistance of magic would accelerate his path of conquest, and bring him into conflict with Arthur _years_ before it would otherwise happen. My assistance would speed Aelle directly towards his doom."

The dragon lowered her head again, nudging at the witch in concern.

"Then why debate this? Arthur will complete his destiny regardless, so why even consider becoming involved? You are free of your destiny now, your fated path is _complete_."

Morgana took a deep breath, and at last met the gaze of dear friend.

"Perhaps because this _is_ something I can choose. I can decide for myself what my path will be." Her expression became tinged with guilt. "I have caused so much suffering for Arthur and so many other people. I have caused the deaths of so many innocents... If a choice that I can make, can bring about an earlier end to the fighting."

Aithusa interrupted her, voice worried.

"Morgana, if you use your magic to help Aelle, you will be condemned alongside him!"

Morgana laughed again, shaking her head.

"I am already condemned. There is nothing I can do while hiding away, which will lessen the hate that others feel towards me." She sighed and pulled herself up straight. "I will never escape that by running from it... But if it will ease your mind, I will warn Cymen of what will come to be if he accepts my help in his father's name. If he chooses to accept my warnings, I will go with you to wherever you would take me."

Aithusa bowed her head, unhappy.

"And if he is a fool and refuses to heed them, you will go with him to hasten his and his father's end. You will make a sacrifice of yourself, in an attempt to pay for your sins."

Morgana remained resolute, a hint of her old spirit glimmering behind her otherwise broken will.

"I spent so long trying to destroy my brother's destiny... This way, I will be indirectly helping him achieve it. Whatever else it might do, whatever else it may cause me to be condemned for, I will at least have done something to make up for what I did to him."

Aithusa nuzzled her, with refusal at last giving way to acceptance.

"Then if you go, I will go with you. To ensure that not Aelle or anyone who answers to him, try to force you to do more than you would offer them."

~(-)~

"That's right, make the tracks good and clear. That king and his men know we're here."

Cymen urged his men along the trail, only mildly irritated at losing two of them. That they'd been spotted and captured so easily, at least showed how proficient Arthur's men were at spotting unwanted observation. Their lives was a small loss, and there was a bigger potential prize to claim. All he had to do was 'convince' her to come with him.

The Saxons neared the clearing, slowing their pace so they would not run headlong into the barrier from yesterday. But when they arrived, the barrier was gone. Not only that, but Morgana stood waiting for them with a bag slung over her shoulder.

Cymen paused in surprise, then started to sneer.

"Well well, what is this? Preparing to run away, were you?"

Morgana eyed him, unimpressed, and answered.

"I'm going to make you an offer, but be aware that it comes with terms and a warning."

The Saxon blinked in surprise, his expression becoming both intrigued and wary.

"And what would that be?"

Morgana raised her chin, her stance becoming haughty.

"I will provide your father with spells and enchantments, upon the weapons and gear of his forces, within the limits of whatever supplies he can secure for me to do so. In exchange, he will provide me with a place of sanctuary under his protection. My conditions are simple, but non-negotiable. I will _not_ take part directly in any battles or acts of conquest, for it is not my desire to court my doom at the hands of Emrys should your father decide to challenge Camelot. Any attempt to convince me otherwise, will be met with refusal or even lead to me walking away from the arrangement."

Cymen's eyes narrowed.

"You want nothing but sanctuary? That seems a low price for an offer of such worth. Armour and weapons enchanted by your hand, a sorceress of your might, would greatly help my father's plans." He regarded her for a long moment, trying to decide if this were a trick. "What then is the warning?"

Morgana returned his gaze, her eyes cold.

"You have heard of me, and so perhaps you have also heard of my powers as a Seer... If you take me with you, and accept my offer, you will be hastening your own and your father's inevitable doom. Both of you are fated to die in conflict against Arthur, and my assistance will only speed you towards that end."

There was silence after her words, lasting several seconds, before Cymen then began to laugh. He shook with mirth, clearly finding her warning to be laughable, before he looked at her once again and sneered.

"Save your pointless predictions, witch. I care not for them, and neither will my father. He _will_ become King of all this Land of Albion, and there is no one who can stop him."

Morgana bowed her head, shaking it at his foolishness, before she raised her hand in signal for Aithusa to come down. The white dragon's descent into the clearing, causing many of Cymen's men to yell in fright.

"Then Aithusa and I shall speed you and miserable force of men away from this place and those that pursue you. We will set you upon the hastened path of your doom."

She held her hand out to Cymen, who reached forward to accept it. The deal struck as the lingering presence of one of the two possible futures faded from the back of her mind. Morgana, Cymen, and his men were long gone by the time Arthur, Merlin, and the knights found the cottage. There was no remaining trace of her, but for the crude wooden charms that protected her now abandoned crops.

The spark of her power that they held, would later inform them that Morgana hadn't been the one to attack the village. Thanks to Katryn's ability to sense the intentions behind enchantments. No, they would only confirm that Morgana was broken of spirit and had no desire for anything but to be left alone. And that it was likely she'd abandoned her home in order to avoid conflict with her brother.

It would be a long time before they'd know of the sacrifice she'd chosen to make.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Ta da! :D**


	7. In Defence of Love 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well, my friend Julie is going to be VERY happy to see this chapter go up. Also, this chapter is most definitely T-Rated for a certain heavily-implied event. You'll know it when you see it :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter : In Defence of Love ~Part 1~

The clatter of cutlery on plate broke the comfortable silence among the three individuals sat at the table, as Merlin, Katryn, and Daegal finished the remainder of their supper. The 'excuse' for her to be there, was that she and Merlin had been working on planning tomorrow's magic lesson for the newest of the students. The hour had grown late, and he'd invited her to come back for supper after she'd tended to the needs of the Queen.

The ruse had fooled everyone who didn't already know, including Arthur even _after_ Merlin had admitted to the king that he was courting someone. The amusement at that fact was evident during the meal, and Katryn was smiling once they were done and she began to shoo Daegal out.

"Go on, off to bed. Lord Geoffrey wants you to re-catalogue the documents in the archive in the morning, remember? You're going to need a clear head, and that means a good night's sleep."

Daegal let out a muted groan, although he didn't really look that upset at the idea.

"Don't remind me. It's going to take a week at least."

Katryn chuckled, nudging him out the door.

"All the more reason to get a good first day in."

Daegal grinned, disappearing down the stairs, with a parting shot called quietly back at her and Merlin.

"And of course it means some 'alone time' for you tw- ow!"

At the teenager's small yelp, Katryn glanced to where Merlin was stacking the supper plates onto a tray for Warren to collect in the morning. She then headed over, after closing the door.

"You're getting quite good at that. You don't even have to be able to see the person these days, to wordlessly tap them on the head when they tease you."

She was smiling as she said it, and he gave her one in return before he sighed.

"A lot of the small spells are like that now, I've hardly had to put much effort into them at all once I'd first learnt them. After all these years of study and practice, there are even many of the slightly harder spells that I can do with silent incantations if I put my mind to it."

At the sight of his troubled frown, Katryn came around the table and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You need to stop doing this, dwelling on how different you are from normal sorcerers, normal people. It will do no good, and will only make you worry needlessly." She paused before continuing. "A bit like how you needlessly worry that, if you make an advance on me, you'll scare me off."

Merlin flinched, averting his gaze and busying himself with putting the last of the supper things on the tray.

"I'm not worried."

Katryn regarded him knowingly.

"For someone who went out of his way to get Liam and Hana together, after that young man had kept her waiting because he feared she'd be brought into danger if with him... You're doing the same thing yourself."

He turned to face her, eyes widening in surprise.

"But-"

She stopped him with a finger put to his lips, and tilted her head.

"As half-human, I've been patient beyond the point where I'd already made up my mind about you, but my dryad half is becoming rather weary of waiting for you to have a little courage. Dryads don't usually wait all that long, when the one they decide to love could leave at any time and never visit their tree again." She leaned closer, lowering her hand from his face. "It may be true that we will have centuries together, but do you really want to wait that long? Do you not trust yourself to protect me, in the way that you promised Arthur and Liam to help them protect their loved ones?"

She smiled, amused. "And I know how long you've had that ring in your pocket." When he jolted, she laughed. "Daegal noticed you had it almost right away, and thought it rather funny to tell me about it a few weeks ago."

Merlin shook his head in exasperation as he let out a small laugh.

"I'll get him for that, mark my words."

He stepped as if to move past her, but was stopped when she put her arm around him. Katryn then pressed her forehead to his, so she could gaze right into his eyes.

"Don't change the subject, Merlin... Don't make me wait any longer. If war is coming, then I want to stand at your side." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "If you take much longer, then it may be that tradition is broken and it's the woman who asks the man. You'd never hear the end of it from Arthur and the Knights, or Daegal."

Their faces inches apart, their bodies pressed together, Merlin couldn't deny that his heart was pounding from having her so close. But more than that, he could feel that her heart pounded as well. And there was a determined light in her eyes that said she wasn't going to take no for an answer. He'd kept her waiting, out of fear, and she'd had enough of it.

And with that thought, he realised that he'd had enough of waiting as well.

His kiss surprised her, but only for a moment, as the two of them clung to each other and thought and reason fled their minds in the heat of the moment...

When morning came and Merlin opened his eyes to pre-dawn gloom, he frowned in confusion for a few seconds. Until he remembered exactly _why_ Katryn was beside him in his bed, with an arm curled possessively over his bare chest.

The warlock flushed scarlet, a quick check with his magic revealing that, much to his relief, he _had_ remembered to cast a sound-ward last night. Otherwise Daegal might have heard rather more than his guardian would have liked.

His small movements roused Katryn, the half-dryad opening her eyes and smiling at him softly. She then traced the edge of his mouth with a finger, gently.

"Good morning." Her smile widened slightly. "I guess you found your courage... I'll give you one more week to ask me, before I ask you myself."

Merlin returned her smile, and chuckled.

"And what makes you think I'd wait that long?"

She laughed, her expression turning wry.

"Because you've that delegation from Nemeth to deal with today. The new trade agreement, remember? And then there's the magic lesson this afternoon."

Merlin bit back a muttered curse, sitting up even as Katryn slid out from under the blankets. He then found himself flushing and averting his gaze as she began to pick up her clothing and put it back on, feeling almost as though he were a youth caught peeking.

When she was dressed, and he'd more modestly ducked behind his screen to put on his own clothing for the day, he then followed her to the main door of the outer chamber.

The two of them paused there, reluctant to part ways, and that showed in Merlin's question.

"Won't you stay for breakfast? You can be away in time to see to Gwen. Warren always comes early."

Katryn placed a light kiss upon his cheek.

"I should think that would raise a few eyebrows, should someone notice I'd had both supper and breakfast in your chambers, without having apparently left to spent the night in my own quarters. If I don't go now, the first servants awake will spot me before I get to my rooms. And you know how servants gossip."

She turned and set off down the stairs as Merlin watched her go, the warlock unable to deny that she was right. While it was a known fact that most noblemen had, at some point in their lives, succumbed to a night of indiscretion... That didn't make it less of a scandal if they got caught. And he, Lord Merlin Garrah, had last night been _very_ indiscrete with the _Queen's _personal maidservant.

The thought brought another faint blush to his face, even as he sauntered back into his chambers like a knight who had just won his first tournament. He was in such a good mood, that even the thought of a morning spent listening to Nemeth's trade ambassador's droning wasn't going to spoil it.

~(-)~

There was the faint splash of water, as it was carefully poured into the pots of flowering plants arrayed by the room's windows. It was accompanied by quiet humming, the singer wearing a slight smile, and both combined to reveal Katryn as being the happiest she'd been in some time.

Gwen watched her, wearing a knowing expression.

"Has he finally made up his mind?"

Katryn glanced over at her and chuckled.

"I gave him an ultimatum. He has to ask me before the end of the week, or I'll ask him myself."

Gwen laughed as well, setting aside the messages she'd been reading.

"Arthur would never stop teasing him about it if you did. Do you have anything specific you'd like planned for your wedding? It would be a full State Wedding, of course. Merlin _is_ the Court Sorcerer, and _you're_ my most trusted friend."

There was a teasing note to her words, and Katryn picked up the damp cloth she used to clean dust from the plants' leaves, and threw it in Gwen's direction.

"Stop that." She paused, thinking. "And I'm not sure what I'd want for a wedding. Dryads don't marry, I was never raised to expect to. In my heart, Merlin and I are already a pair. The wedding part is just human formality."

Gwen walked over to place a hand on Katryn's arm.

"That may be true, but it's also an occasion for your friends to show their joy at your happiness, and celebrate it by being there." She tilted her head. "And I know you're worried, that being Merlin's wife means you can't be my maid anymore without offending the sensibilities of certain nobles. That might be true, but you could still be my assistant. It would be a bit like how Merlin and Bel used to work, back when he was still pretending to be Arthur's servant. I'd get a new maid to bring meals, and clean, and you can help me choose her. Someone who can be as good a friend to us both, as we are to each other."

Katryn looked at Gwen, her smile returning.

"You're right, and I know one or two among the staff who I would have in mind for that. If you like, I could start arranging it."

Gwen shook her head.

"Leave it until _after_ you and Merlin are finally married. Let's not rush headlong into it, before that part has even been done." The queen paused for a moment, just noticing something, and then she frowned and reached out to gently turn Katryn's head towards the light from the window. "Is something wrong with your eyes? They've always been brown, but now..."

Katryn regarded her in mute surprise, before she briskly turned to go the nearby mirror and take a look for herself. Once there, she could see that the usual brown of her eyes was changing to a pale green like new spring leaves. She then stepped back from the mirror and turned to face Gwen.

"It's nothing, this is something normal for dryads and half-dryads." She tilted her head. "It seems I'll need to ask for a few days off, if that's ok. This is a sign I need to visit my kin. It's a sort of tradition, a 'get together'. I'll need to tell them I'm paired as well. I have a half-cousin in the Heartwood of Balor, who I promised I would tell once 'I'd found my man'. They'll all be so happy for me."

Gwen nodded, her concern from moments before now replaced by reassurance as she smiled.

"Of course, and this would be a chance to ask one of those maids you had in mind to fill in for you while you're gone."

"Then I'll get ready to go at once, and inform the chief of the castle staff, that you require Lauren's services for the duration of my absence."

Katryn began to head for the door, Gwen regarding her in surprise as she called out.

"You're going to go _now?_ But what about the magic lesson this afternoon."

The maid glanced back at her, her expression wry.

"He can manage on his own for one lesson, and this is something I _really_ want to go see my cousin about. It's been so long since I last visited her."

Gwen nodded, accepting that her friend was likely far more excited than she outwardly seemed.

"Then you'd best ask her for wedding ideas while you're there, because as soon as Merlin proposes and your relationship is public. you and I will have a ceremony to plan."

"And I'll look forward to that."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, Katryn and Merlin will soon be getting MARRIED! :D**


	8. In Defence of Love 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: I expect there will be a LOT of very happy/excited readers by the end of this chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 8 : In Defence of Love ~Part 2~

"Excuse me, have you seen Katryn?

"Sorry, Sir, but I haven't."

"That's all right. Thank you."

Merlin remained where he was as the servant he'd asked continued on their way. The magic lesson was due to start in less than half an hour, and there was no sign of Katryn anywhere. She was normally the first to arrive, at least an hour before so they could spend some time together without questions being raised, but today she hadn't.

He frowned to himself, heading back up the passage to the classroom. He'd already endured a truly boredom-inducing meeting to finish up the trade agreement, and now he found himself in a state of worry even if he knew she was likely just running a little later than usual.

Merlin entered the classroom and sat at the main desk, setting about preparing the tasks for the more experienced students to work on while he spent the lesson concentrating on the two new ones. Katryn usually tended to those, but if she was late then he had to be prepared to do it himself.

It was just as well, because fifteen minutes before the lesson was due to start, there was a light knock on the door and Gwen peered in.

She smiled when she saw him.

"I've just come to let you know that Katryn won't be coming... She told me about her little ultimatum to you, and has gone to visit her half-cousin in the Heartwood of Balor to spread the good news. She said she thought you could manage the lesson on your own."

Merlin nearly choked at the mention of the ultimatum, until he realised that Katryn would obviously not mention what had gone on prior to her making it. He then sighed, looking rather bemused.

"And my guess would be that you're already coming up with ideas for the wedding."

Gwen laughed.

"Guilty as charged." Her smile widened. "I can't wait to see the look on Arthur's face when he finds out."

"You and me, both." Merlin laughed at that, and sighed again as he resumed preparing for the lesson. "Thanks for letting me know. I shall now enjoy what remaining peace and quiet I will have, before the inevitable teasing starts."

He waved to Gwen as she backed out of the room, the queen smiling to herself as she then turned and found herself almost colliding with Gaius. The retired physician steadied her, before they both their walk along the passage.

Gaius glanced back at the door of the classroom, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"It's unusual for you to be visiting there. Is something wrong."

Gwen smiled, lowering her voice to a discrete murmur.

"Before the week is over, our Court Sorcerer will officially have a fiancée. Katryn has told him that if he doesn't ask her before then, then she will break with tradition and ask him herself."

The old man started to chuckle.

"I should have known. He's kept her waiting for far too long, so I'm not surprised. I would guess you visited Merlin just now to congratulate him?"

Gwen shook her head.

"Actually, it was to let him know that Katryn has gone to visit her kin, so he will have to teach today's lesson on his own. She left an hour ago."

Beside her, Gaius frowned.

"That's rather sudden. And for her to miss a lesson, even for good news like this, is odd."

Gwen went quiet for a moment before speak.

"Now that you mention it, she was in no rush to go anywhere earlier today. It was only after I noticed her eyes had turned green, and pointed it out to her, that she asked for a few days off to go visit her kin."

Gaius raised his eyebrows.

"Her eyes _changed _colour?"

The queen nodded.

"Yes. They'd turned a very pale green, like new leaves. She said it was a normal thing for her people, and that it was tradition for them to visit each other when it happens."

Gaius remained thoughtful, even as he nodded to himself.

"Indeed, and of course she would know. We, after all, only know the basics of the culture she was raised to. It is of little wonder that we should occasionally learn something new from her."

They reached the door to the stairs of Gaius' chambers, and Gwen smiled at him as he stepped through it.

"That's true. And Gaius, would you and Alice like to dine with me this evening? Lauren, my temporary maid, is somewhat shy. It would be nice to have company while Katryn is away, who would also help put Lauren at ease."

Gaius inclined his head in thanks.

"We would be delighted to, My Lady. We shall see you then."

The old man turned and began to climb the stairs to his chambers, arriving in his rooms to find Liam and Alice in the midst of re-stocking the supplies of basic ointments and salves.

He paused at the doorway as both of them turned to face him, before smiling in greeting and advancing into the room.

"Liam, you wouldn't happen to have seen my book on creatures and beings of the woodland realms, have you?"

~(-)~

Her footfalls were but the softest of sounds as she walked, her passage as un-noted by the nearby animals as would be a breeze. Katryn savoured the smells of the woodland around her. The heady scent of damp earth, and the subtle touch of sun-warmed bark and leaves. The forests near to Camelot were pleasant, but nothing could compare to the sense of belonging she felt whenever she approached a Heartwood.

That had been one reason for only forest-walking to a point near to it, and not there directly. The other had been to conserve her strength, for if she did not want to spend precious time communing with the land, then she had to make sure she had sufficient left to take her back to Camelot once it was time to return there.

Katryn sighed in contentment, continuing on her way, until a rustle of sound to her left caught her attention and she stopped.

"I know you are there. Come out."

There was a moment when nothing happened, before a man stepped from behind a bush. He then nodded respectfully towards her.

"I was about to warn you to take care in these woods, but it seems I have no need. What brings you here to the Forest of Balor? This is no place to be travelling alone."

She eyed him impassively.

"I am travelling to visit family. I know these woods well, and am in no danger here. The cockatrice stay at the northern side, near the Caves of Balor. Their presence keeps the larger mundane predators out of these woods." She set off again. "So unless you expect me to be attacked by a fox or a weasel, or some other similar small predator, I see no real danger in these woods. Except for, perhaps, you and whoever you may be with."

She paused and glanced back at him, her gaze daring him to lie about the reason he was here.

He didn't. His sombre expression was a clear enough indication of the truth of his words.

"My younger son is ill, and I'm here in these woods to petition the aid of the Dryads. I possess the plant needed to cure him, but it has been dried for so long it is no longer of use. I need for them to revive it." He gestured towards the east. "I am not the only one here, there are others as well. Each with a similar reason for seeking their help."

Katryn turned to face him fully.

"And have you asked them to revive your plant?"

He nodded.

"I did, and they asked that I show them it. But after doing so they refused to do more and told me to go on my way."

Katryn regarded him for a moment long, before she turned and started walking again.

"Then that is because they could not help you. Your plant must be damaged or aged beyond all chance of restoration, for mere leaves or petals cannot withstand time as well as wood may. You would do better for your son to either petition the aid of Order of Forthweard at the Isle of the Blessed, or seek out a new example of the plant which they may have or can find for you. You only lengthen your son's suffering by lingering here."

The man went still in surprise, before he called out after her.

"Wait, would you like to join us in our camp for tonight? Surely you've had a long journey, and you could rest in good company before you continue."

Katryn didn't stop.

"I thank you for your offer, but I've not much further to go. I will be with my family before the day ends... And I suggest you heed my words, and go to the Isle of the Blessed. If the Dryads of these woods have turned you away, then it is truly because they cannot help you. It is not their way, to refuse those that it is within their means to help, if the request is reasonable. Yours is, or they would not have looked at your plant."

He watched her go in silence, before nodding to himself and turning to leave. Katryn listened to the whispers of the trees as they told her of his departure towards the nearby camp, and sighed softly.

It wasn't uncommon for humans to gather in small groups near Dryad Heartwoods. Prior to the Great Purge, the Heartwood of Balor had been a place of pilgrimage for those seeking cures or words of wisdom. The dangerous nature of the Forest of Balor had protected this place from Uther's wrath, when the Dryads had called the cockatrices from the northern part of it to surround their southern home. But now that they'd been sent back and magic legalised, humans were gathering again. Yet it seemed no priest or priestess was here to mediate and stop people lingering if the Dryads couldn't help. She'd have to ask Merlin to arrange one once she returned to the city.

Katryn continued along the trail. Her reason for concern there was no mediator, made apparent as she reached and passed the first of the oak trees bonded to a dryad. Whoever it belonged to, they didn't emerge into view. Instead they hid out-of-sight, instead of sitting in the cradle of the branches above and singing to the forest. It was the same with every oak she passed, even when she reached and stopped below the one which was her destination.

Katryn pushed back her hood and lay a hand upon the truck, calling out.

"Treesong's greeting, Hyrila. Cousin, come out. It is I, Katryn."

A female head and shoulders literally emerged from the trunk when she stepped back, Hyrila eyeing her visitor warily until she saw that it was indeed her cousin. She then broke out into a wide smile, dashed the rest of the way out of her tree, and pulled the half-dryad into a hug.

"Katryn! It's been so long. The last time you came, it was barely two years after..."

As her voice petered out, Katryn finished the sentence while returning the hug.

"Two years after my second tree was destroyed. Two years after I became trapped as a halfbreed." She sighed as she released her cousin, but then smiles. "Those days of sadness are behind me. I've found my happiness, and come to my kind at this time for celebration."

She lifted her head fully, having kept her eyes lowered, so that Hyrila could see them. And when she did, the dryad gasped and immediately became excited. Her voice ringing out joyfully among the trees.

"You're with child! You picked a man! What is he like, the father? What is his name?"

The speed of the questions made Katryn laugh, her expression then becoming distance distant as she thought about him.

"His name is Merlin... Although you'd know him as Emrys."

Hyrila went stock still, and stared in astonishment.

"You are to carry the child of Emrys? He chose _you?_ You chose _him?_"

Katryn smiled. Her pale green eyes, the sign of her 'condition', filled with certainty.

"He loves me, as I love him... Enough that I would marry him, and be bound by that human custom. For there is no other I would wish to spend my life with, however much time fate gives us to be together."

Hyrila was still staring

"You love him enough to _marry_ him? But our kind never marry!"

"I know, but then I'm only half-dryad." Katryn reached out to place a hand on her cousin's arm. "And no matter what, I know I will be happy with him. He understands me as no other human ever could."

Hyrila at last managed to compose herself, and then she started to grin.

"Then the kin shall gather, as well always do when one of us becomes with child. We shall sing to the trees, the moon, and the stars. In celebration of the new life that you carry!"

But neither of them knew what transpired nearby, when the man Katryn had spoken to reached the camp and began packing to leave. Neither was yet aware of what his departure would trigger, among the rest of the increasingly frustrated people who had come seeking gains from the Dryads.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (evil grin) In a review on the previous chapter, someone asked if there would be "baby Merlins running around in the near future". lol, it took all my will to resist temptation and leave it as a surprise.**

**Because yep, Merlin's "indiscretion" with Katryn has... ahem... "knocked her up" XD**

**The wedding will be the next "episode", for those who are wondering. But of course, there's still next chapter before that :)**


	9. In Defence of Love 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Sorry for the wait. This chapter took a bit more planning, and I chopped and changed things around a bit as well.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 9: In Defence of Love ~Part 3~

The man ignored the stares of the others in the camp, as he gathered the last of his belongings and prepared to leave. He had begun to wonder in recent days, if he were making a mistake by lingering here, but it had taken the words of that woman to make him admit to the truth.

If the Dryads could have helped him, they would have. They'd asked to see the plant he'd brought with him, and only _after_ seeing it had they told him to leave. While not an open admittance to being unable to help him, in hindsight their immediate dismissal at that point should have made it obvious. It was time to seek help elsewhere.

From the far side of the camp, one individual now strode over. That man wearing a scowl as he saw what was going on.

"Where do you think you're going, Carl? Are you giving up?"

Carl glanced at him and shouldered his bag.

"I've wasted too much time here, as have all of us here in this camp. If the Dryads could have helped any of us, they would have. Do the wise thing, Hahn, and look elsewhere like I now intend to do."

Hahn was still scowling, his expression then becoming a sneer.

"So you _are_ giving up. You're letting those woodland sluts send you off with nothing, like a coward."

Carl ignored the insult. Hahn was a man who was quick to anger, and equally quick to resort to violence, and he'd do himself no favours by picking a fight with him.

"Call me what you will, but I'm going to the Isle of the Blessed to seek help from the Order." He met Hahn's gaze. "It took meeting a woman who passed nearby a short while ago, for me to realise I must accept that there will be no help for my son here. She travelled to go see her kin, and so shall I once I have been to the Isle. I shall travel back to my son, with the cure I swore to myself I would get for him."

As Carl began to walk out of the camp, Hahn called out after him.

"And how long do you think it will be before you can do that? The Order will demand a task of you in return for their help. You might as well sign yourself up to slavery."

Carl kept walking.

"The Order are fair and just, and I know their prices will be likewise. They would not ask me to do anything that would delay my son being cured. Any other price they deem I must pay, I will pay. My son is worth it, as I'm sure are many of those that the rest of you seek help for."

He quickly disappeared among the trees, heading north, and once he was gone the others in the camp began to murmur among themselves. Several began to prepare to leave, as he had, and the sight of that caused Hahn to face them with a snarl.

"So are you lot going to run away like cowards as well?" He pointed towards the Heartwood. "Those bitches have toyed with us like it's a game! I'll prove to you that they _can_ help us, all of us! It's just that they _won't_. I don't know about the rest of you, but I _refuse _to be ignored any longer!"

Those that had begun to pack, cowered in the face of his shouting, while the rest of those in the camp raised their voices in support of his words. A mob was brewing.

~(-)~

In the Heartwood, at the base of Hyrila's oak, laughter and song rang out among the surrounding trees. All the dryads in the area had gathered to celebrate the beginning of the new life that Katryn carried, and for this one idyllic day she could pretend that she wasn't trapped as a half-breed with all the woes that it entailed.

Although she did not lament her fate, not anymore. She would never have had her friendship with Gwen, her home in Camelot, and her love for Merlin if not for being what she was. It was as much to say she was _glad_ fate had turned out the way it had. Any regrets were long gone.

Sat amid her kin, she only wished now that they could be there at the wedding. But that wasn't possible, so this was the next best thing, and she'd have to make sure to bring Merlin to see them some time as well. Hyrila and the others would really like that.

The day progressed, the sun set, and one-by-one the dryads each returned to their respective oak trees. Hyrila perched herself up in the branches above, and Katryn lay down upon a bed of moss and ferns. That was where both of them were when morning came, and that was where both of them were when they were jolted awake by a warning.

The trees were practically shouting. Humans! Angry humans heading into the Heartwood! Every Dryad vanished from sight, from ground and bough. Only Hyrila remained in view, gazing down at her cousin.

"Quick, climb up! You can hide up here!"

Katryn scrambled to do so, reaching for the hand-holds that Hyrila shaped for her upon the tree's trunk, but even so she was only halfway up when the mob came into view. And what she saw made her immediately let go and drop back to the ground.

There was a heavy-set man at the front of the mob, the obvious instigator, and he had an axe. The very thought of humans bringing such a tool into the Heartwood filled her with anger... In the absence of a priest or priestess to mediate any contact with the dryads here, it seems it fell to her to teach these intruders some manners.

She narrowed her eyes at the group, who had paused in surprise in seeing an apparent human woman climbing a dryad's oak, and placed herself between them and Hyrila's tree.

"Leave here at once. You're not welcome. If the Dryads have not helped you before now, then it means that they cannot provide what it is you seek. You should go elsewhere, such as the Isle of the Blessed. For there, if what you seek is possible and within bounds to be granted, you will almost certainly find it."

The leader of the mob stepped forward, glowering at her.

"So you must be the woman that Carl met. The one who convinced him to pack up and leave like a weakling." He glanced at the tree, and the anxious dryad perched up there. "He also said he'd been told you were visiting your kin... I take it that means you're a half-breed."

Katryn shifted her stance, ready to fight if need be.

"What I am is of no importance, although it does give me better insight into the follies of humans. I've seen many fools like you, strutting around and showing off your strength like a rutting bull. Men like you, don't like to be told 'no'. You think everything should be handed to you, just because you want it to be. You'd rather take by force instead of earn through honest work. Men like you are braggarts and bullies."

The man, Hahn, took a step forward and hefted his axe.

"And you are just another one of these forest sluts, who play games with us just for your own amusement."

He was stopped in his tracks as Katryn twitched her fingers, and a vine burst from the ground at his side and wrenched the tool from his grasp.

She glared warningly.

"Don't take me for a pacifist like my kin. As a half-breed, I've learnt to embrace my human nature. The will to resort to violence, with far less provocation. My cousin would wait until you actually struck her tree before retaliating... I won't even let you get close enough to to try it."

Hahn seemed unimpressed, as he snatched his axe back from the grasping vine.

"We'll see about that."

He lunged forward, his sheer momentum carrying him a few extra feet even after leafy tendrils and woody roots burst into rapid growth and tangled his feet to trip him up. Behind him the mob broke up into a panicked scatter as the rampaging greenery sought them out as well. They might have been driven off, had Hahn not broken free and forced Katryn to focus her attention on him.

She restrained him again and again, seeking to force him to surrender rather than harm him, and that was her mistake. She underestimated how much energy she had remaining in reserve, and she was too late in realising it. Thus instead of downing the man who seemed the only real threat, he broke free of his binds and in trying to strike him down... Katryn collapsed.

She crumpled to the forest floor, gasping and disorientated, swept under by a wave of exhaustion and a deep-seated _need_ to commune with the land and regain her strength.

Up above, Hyrila shrieked as Hahn raised his axe to strike the downed woman.

"_KATRYN!_"

Hahn paused, glancing at the dryad's desperate expression, and then noticed that the dryads in the other nearby oaks had come out into view as well. He then laughed, lowering the axe, and then yanked Katryn to her feet.

He held the blade of the axe to her throat, and sneered at Hyrila.

"Well it seems she means a lot to you. Enough to give every one of us what we want?" He smiled maliciously. "I'll give you until dawn to decide, before I start sending her back to you in pieces. Try to take her back, and I'll cut her throat."

He tucked Katryn under his arm, throwing the axe to one of the other men so he could use his dagger as the threat instead. He then turned and walked away, the rest of the humans following him, and Katryn managed once faint mental whisper to her cousin.

_'Send word to to Druids, to Emrys.'_

~(-)~

A soft sigh drifted through the room, above the sounds of bubbling liquids and the quiet clatter of tools. Merlin glanced at his notes, comparing the theory of breaking down this potion into easily teachable steps with the reality of brewing it according to them. He made adjustments as he worked, inwardly wishing Katryn were there to assist him.

But if she intended to stay with her kin for another couple of days, she might not be back in time for the next lesson. He needed _something_ to teach them which would be useful for both the beginners and the experienced students. Some basic practice of herb-craft as used in magic, seemed to be the best option at such short noticed. The only downside being that he had to prepare the lesson plan _at_ short notice.

He sighed again, marking another small change in the brewing procedure to avoid a possible point of confusion for the students, before finally calling time. It was approaching the second hour after noon, and he was due to meet with Arthur and Lord Geoffrey to discuss the outcome of the new trade agreement with Methuen. The potion could wait to be finished, until after that meeting was done.

Merlin snuffed out his burner, checking everything on the table was placed securely before heading out and locking the door... Lest a certain ward of his enter his chambers and knock something over. He then headed for the Council Chambers, resigned to spending the next couple of hours discussing things he'd already discussed to the point of utter boredom with the ambassadors. But, such was the life of the First Advisor and Court Sorcerer of Camelot.

But even so, it was as well it was an informal meeting, because Merlin had his chin propped on one hand and was on the verge of being half-asleep after barely an hour of talking with Arthur and Lord Geoffrey. He sat there, blandly answering every question the two of them asked, until a sudden pounding on the Council Chamber doors brought an abrupt halt to the meeting.

Arthur frowned, and called out.

"Enter."

The doors opened, the guards outside admitting a man in druid garb, and that man was out-of-breath from the haste with which he had come to the city.

"Lord Emrys, I bring urgent word from the Dryads of the Heartwood of Balor. The leader of a group of humans, who have been harassing them of late, has taken a half-dryad woman as hostage to try and force the dryads to cooperate with his demands... He has threatened to hurt the woman, Katryn, if the dryads do not heed him by dawn tomorrow."

Arthur rose sharply to his feet, not even noticing how utterly still Merlin had gone, and looked to the guards.

"Summon the members of my inner council, and give word to the Knights to prepare to ride out at once."

The guard nodded, hastening away, before the druid messenger addressed Merlin again.

"Lord Emrys, there is one other thing. The woman, Katryn, is as I said, a half-dryad. If you do not get to her before the leader of those men, Hahn, harms her... The Dryads of Balor will _kill_ him and every other person in his camp. Even those who only obey Hahn out of fear. They will be massacred."

Merlin broke from his stunned state, frowning as he rose to his feet.

"But the Dryads are pacifists, even more so than the Druids in many respects. They only resort to violence when someone or something harms their trees."

The druid man's next statement was grim.

"There is one other occasion when they will lash out, and do so as a massed whole rather than a single individual. In the message they sent to us, they informed us that Katryn is newly with child. Children are rare for the Dryads and their kin, and even one so new and so far from birth is greatly treasured. If any harm befalls the mother, their rage will have no bounds. The trees around the Heartwood will rip those people apart."

Merlin almost choked, eyes wide, as Arthur voiced the very question the warlock had been unable to utter.

"Katryn is _pregnant?_" He glanced at Merlin. "I didn't even know she was in a relationship."

Merlin forced himself to composure, a feeling of anger and protectiveness now burning inside of him. His expression was set into a frown of determination.

"Don't bother with the Knights... I'll go, on Kilgharrah. I can be there within an hour, and get her away from them and them away from the Dryads."

Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder as the warlock made to leave.

"You're not going alone. You'll be in dense woodland, Kilgharrah won't be able to land and help you unless you think him torching the forest would be a good idea. Take a couple of Knights with you, at the very least, to watch your back."

Merlin paused a moment, frowning, before he slipped from Arthur's grasp and headed for the door.

"Fine, but don't expect Kilgharrah to be happy about carrying three people there and four people back. If he gets grumpy with me, expect to get frozen food for the rest of the week."

Out of the chambers, striding towards the stairs to the ground floor, Merlin activated two of the symbols on his amulet. "Leon, Gwaine, meet me at the main gates. We're going to go rescue Katryn."

Merlin gritted his teeth, already growing a summons to Kilgharrah under his breath. His fists clenched, his entire body trembling with pent-up emotion... Katryn must have gone to visit her kin because she'd discovered she had conceived, and she was carrying _his_ child. If loving her wasn't reason enough to set out to rescue her, that additional knowledge only served to increase his fury at the arrogance and barbarism of 'Hahn'.

That fury must have been clear in his expression when he reached the gates, because whatever remark of bravado that Gwaine had been considering was lost as his mouth snapped shut upon seeing the warlock. Both he and Leon fell into step behind Merlin, all three heading to an empty pasture just outside the city walls.

It was not long before Kilgharrah arrived and landed, and Merlin's emotions had clearly echoed across the bond the two of them shared. For the dragon didn't even bother to ask why he'd been called. Instead he intermittently growled with boiling anger, and lowered his head and neck so they could climb up.

"Get on. I know not why you have called, but I can feel your need. Point me in the direction of those you seek."

Merlin barely gave the two knights the chance to get seated astride the dragon's neck, before practically snarled out their destination.

"The Heartwood of Balor... Some fools have decided to try use Katryn as a hostage against the Dryads there."

Kilgharrah went rigid before letting out a roar, and launched himself skyward so fast that Merlin had to hold Leon and Gwaine in place using magic. Both knights now glanced at each other, trying to figure out why Merlin was _this_ upset. They were angry, but it was a candle compared to an inferno in the face of Merlin's reaction to the news, for the air around him seemed to _shake_ at his presence. The last time anyone had seen him this angry, was back when Morgana had thrown Gaius into the wall outside the Council Chambers, and that confrontation had ended with Morgause lying half-dead on the chamber floor.

There was an eerie silence among them as they flew south-east, with nothing but the sound of Kilgharrah's wings and his intermittent growling to break it. Their course changed abruptly once they got near enough to the forest for Merlin to detect and start homing in on Katryn's amulet, and the tension grew greater still a few minutes later when they came within range for the Speaking Spell to work.

Because it was then that Merlin activated the lance symbol on his, and spoke in words like a promise.

~(-)~

_'Katryn, I'll be there soon.'_

Those words roused her from the fog of exhaustion that shrouded her and dragged on her limbs, sounding within her mind and bringing a glimmer of awareness back to her pale-green eyes. She raised her head, wearily glaring at her captor from where she'd been tied to a rock.

"You know, if you harm me, there is _nothing_ in this world that will protect you from the fury brought against for it. Dryads hold life sacred, but new life especially, and I am with child. Harm , and the Dryads of Balor will combine their will and command this forest to kill you all."

Hahn turned to face her, from where he stood leaning against a tree looking rather pleased with himself. All around them though, the rest of the people here were becoming increasingly uncertain about the situation. Many obviously wanted to get away, but were too afraid of Hahn's anger to try.

Katryn raised her head higher, bolstered by the feel of a great force of magic heading her way, and smiled. It caused him to scowl.

"Don't look so pleased, wench, or I'll wipe that smirk from your face."

Katryn let out a single laugh.

"Go ahead, do that... The way I see it, you'll either killed by the trees now, or in a few more minutes when Emrys descends upon this camp and does it himself... You made a very big mistake when you took me hostage."

Hahn's expression twisted into a sneer.

"I don't think so. You're just a half-breed bitch."

Katryn laughed again, her confidence unnerving the others in the camp. But her next words _terrified_ most of them.

"Half-dryad I may be, but my powers and abilities are why I was chosen to be the maidservant and bodyguard of the Queen of Camelot... The Court Sorcerer is on his way, and he is _not_ happy with what you've done."

Many of the people in the camp started to murmur fearfully among each other, continuing even after the Hahn yelled at them to shut up and that she was lying. But then there was a roar overhead, a shadow passed over, and three figures dropped down to land in the centre of the camp. Cushioned from the long fall by a spell.

There was a moment of utter stillness in the camp as Merlin straightened up, and then he saw Katryn tied to the rock and the man looming over her. In that instant, when the warlock's cold, bye gaze fixed upon him, Hahn stumbled backwards in terror. His movement triggering a stampede among the rest of the surrounding men and women.

Gwaine drew his sword, watching them run, and then he smirked at Hahn.

"I don't think they were expecting that. Were you?"

Katryn calls out from behind her captor.

"Merlin, don't kill any of them. It was only this fool who started it."

Merlin scowled at Hahn, raised a hand, and clenched his fist to grip him with his power. He then shook him violently, although not hard enough to seriously injure, and then flung him into the nearby stream. That Katryn only looked tired, with no sign of actual injury, had calmed him enough not to murder in cold blood. But he still spared no thought as he smacked Hahn back into the mud and water when he tried to get away.

Leon stepped into seize him, while in the meantime the ropes binding Katryn crumbled to dust and she stumbled to her feet. But when the knight went to pull the would-be blackmailer to his feet to tie up his hands, Hahn was shoved flat again and pinned, in a position where he had to fight to keep his head above the waters of the stream.

Leon stepped back from him in surprise, and faced Merlin in shock.

"Merlin, let go of him. Don't you think this is a bit excessive?"

Merlin ignored him and instead rushed to Katryn's side. He then pulled her into a tight hug, Katryn clinging to him in return, as he used his magic to pull power from the land and give it to her to restore her strength.

As the couple embraced, Leon stared and Gwaine blinked. The latter saying what they were both thinking.

"Um... I think I know now why he was so upset. He's acting like Arthur does whenever Gwen is threatened." He glanced at the man pinned in the stream. "Although he has far more options to express how upset he is."

Leon tentatively approached the pair, speaking quietly.

"Merlin, could you release him before he drowns? He can hardly stand trial for what he's done, if he's dead."

The warlock as last responded, still holding Katryn close as he snorted in disdain.

"Fine, but he's not going get a comfortable ride back to the city."

The force holding Hahn down was removed, allowing the gasping and choking man to push himself clear of the water. He made no struggle as Leon and Gwaine bound him, too terrified to protest as he was then dragged in the direction of the nearest clearing large enough to allow Kilgharrah to land.

Just as it had been on the trip to Balor, they flew in silence on the way back. Hahn gagged into silence to stop him screaming where he hung in the grasp of Kilgharrah's talons. Only one thing said during the trip, and that was Merlin quietly asking Katryn to marry him.

When they arrived back through the castle gates, Gwaine and Leon led the way dragging Hahn between them. Arthur and Gwen hurrying down the castle steps towards them and the pair that followed behind. Gwen had been shocked to learn that Katryn was pregnant, Gaius having been in the midst of telling her what he'd learnt from his books when Arthur had sought her out to say Katryn was in danger. She'd also been worried that Merlin would do something rash. It was a huge relief to see them both safe.

Merlin smiled almost wearily as the two royals approached, keeping his arm firmly held around Katryn's waist and his other hand holding hers. She was wearing the ring he'd kept in his pocket for the past two years.

Arthur came to a confused halt, looking at the way Merlin held her and the ring that she wore, and his eyes widened in stunned realisation.

"_Katryn_ is the woman you've been courting?!"

Merlin's smile widened a bit, becoming amused, and he chuckled.

"Yes, and right under your nose too. Although Gwen helped us keep it secret, since she knew you would tease me about it." He glanced at Katryn. "I was going to ask her to marry me at the end of this week, but a couple of days early doesn't hurt. Not when we've a wedding to prepare, and an arrival to start planning for."

Arthur remained dumbfounded for a few more moments, before he started to smile and came over to clap Merlin on the shoulder. There would be time and enough for plans and problems tomorrow, once they'd all had a quiet evening to celebrate the engagement, followed by a good night's sleep.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: (grins) There you all go! Hope you enjoyed it :D**

**Oh, and on a little side-note, I figure I'll mention this now. Merlin and Katryn's child will be, for the most part, a normal human. I do plan for magical talent to factor in fairly early on, but Katryn's dryad heritage will only pass on an increased affinity for magic involving plants or plant materials. I didn't want to make their kid overpowered :)**


	10. Unity Through Vows 'Part 1'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Well I'm back from my ROTG fic marathon, and here is the first part of 'Episode 4' of my Season 6 :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 10: Unity Through Vows ~Part 1~

When Merlin opened his eyes to the pre-dawn glow through his window, it took him a moment to remember just what had gone on. It took a moment more for it to sink in, that in just six days he would be marrying Katryn. And then it took a final moment for a small smile of joy to appear at the thought of knowing he was going to be a father.

Merlin got out of bed, partly wishing Katryn was beside him. But until the wedding had taken place, she would continue sleeping in the small room connected to Gwen's chambers. Now that the engagement was public, certain rules had to be followed. And that was all there was to it.

The warlock's usual routine continued once he went out in the main chamber of his rooms. He'd woken up before Warren arrived, as was normal, and so set about lighting a small fire in the hearth and placing a kettle of water over it for tea. He then made a fuss of Friou, after the wyvern grumbled at the lack of immediate attention. But it was once Warren arrived that the usual routine met with a sudden change, because the servant wasn't alone.

Gaius offered his former ward a smile as he entered in Warren's wake.

"I took the liberty of sending Daegal to have breakfast with Alice. I thought you might like to postpone him teasing you, since he didn't have the chance to at last night's celebration."

Merlin laughed at that.

"Thanks. I don't know whether to be glad once he's 'come of age' and moves into quarters of his own, or miss him when he won't be here every morning to pester me... Did I ever make you think that?"

Gaius laughed now as well, and took a seat at the table where Warren was laying out breakfast for the two of them.

"A great _many _times." He glanced at the servant. "Thank you, Warren. Merlin has a busy morning ahead of him, so you may return for the breakfast things later."

Warren raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, having heard certain gossip circulating the castle since yesterday, and nodded in acceptance of the hint.

"I'll take them back to the kitchens with the tray from the midday meal."

Merlin's expression had now become a slight frown, as he watched his servant hasten out. He then glanced at the retired physician.

"You're not here to scold me about 'indiscretion' are you? Look, I never _planned_ to spend that night with Katryn. It was just the spur of the moment."

Gaius sighed, waiting until Merlin had sat down opposite him.

"Well I could say 'I thought I taught you better', but for the fact that Katryn is a half-dryad and once she'd made up her mind then that was that. But it doesn't change the fact that you are a nobleman now, and you've gotten your fiancée pregnant _before_ marrying her."

Merlin paused in picking through his breakfast porridge, having now lost his appetite.

"Why bring this up? What's the point? It's only six days until I marry her, and if she hadn't been a half-dryad we wouldn't even _know_ she was pregnant. Everyone will assume it had happened on the wedding night."

Gaius grimaced, recalling the same gossip that Warren had heard.

"Yes, and you could have gotten away with it like that... If not for the fuss being raised by that druid's far from discrete arrival yesterday."

Merlin looked up sharply, speaking after a pause.

"Are you telling me that..."

Gaius nodded.

"The servant in question has been severely reprimanded for 'divulging information of a sensitive nature', but that doesn't undo the fact that the _entire _city is will be aware of your indiscretion with Katryn by now."

Merlin let out a frustrated sigh, inwardly cursing.

"I'll just have to deal with it then. I can't stop the gossip, I can't deny it, and I'm not ashamed of the fact I'm going to be a father." He ran a hand through his hair. "Although at least I can argue with the nobility, that Katryn was raised to Dryad Culture where marriage is a totally foreign concept. I can say that I courted her as per her customs so as not to make her uncomfortable, and now that we've decided to make our relationship permanent, she's following the customs to which I was raised."

Gaius, raised an eyebrow.

"And when did you come up with that one?"

Merlin glanced at him, wry.

"Last night, after the gathering ended. I figured that once the surprise wears off, Arthur is going to have a few stern words with me about propriety."

Gaius pointed to Merlin's food.

"Then I suggest you eat that and then go see him immediately, to inform him of that admittedly convincing reasoning. You're just lucky you're the Leader of the Old Religion, and can be expected to show courtesy for the traditions of the various magical races. We can't stop the common folk from gossiping, but at least the political implications of your indiscretion can be avoided. Arthur will be sending the invitations to Mercia, Caeleon, Escetia, and Nemeth by noon, so I think you should get going."

Merlin blanched pale, a feeling of dread settling into his stomach.

"Oh... He isn't, is he?"

Gaius started to chuckle at the warlock's discomfort.

"If by that, you mean inviting the monarchy of those kingdoms to come attend the wedding of his Court Sorcerer. Yes, he is."

Merlin remained silent after that, unmoving for several seconds before he shovelled down his porridge without ceremony. He then got up and strode out the door, leaving a moderately bemused and amused old man at the table.

Merlin descended the stairs from his chambers, exiting them at the first floor down to take the direct route to Arthur's chambers. But even distracted as he was, he noticed the odd looks he was getting from the servants, and from those guards who thought they were being discrete. Gaius was right, the gossip _had_ gotten around, but luckily an opportunity to do something about that was coming up the hallway.

Lord Geoffrey was often an early-riser, and just as often he would already be at the Hall of Records before many of the other nobles in the castle had even begun to stir from their beds. He'd not been at the gathering last night, due to being busy in the archives, so this was his first opportunity to speak to the Court Sorcerer about yesterday's announcement.

"Ah, Lord Merlin. May I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding?"

Merlin smiled, clasping the arm that was held out in show of support. He then allowed himself to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm still finding it a little hard to believe, to be honest. I'd held off asking her, since I was unsure if she'd accept the custom. It was only after it was made clear she reciprocated my advances, that I chanced it."

Lord Geoffrey frowned a little, curious.

"Custom?"

"She was raised a Dryad; marriage is a totally foreign concept to her." Merlin sighed, openly showing relief at her acceptance. "It doesn't exist in her culture, that's why I'm surprised she said yes. Up until now my courtship has been kept to the bounds she would have known in Dryad society, out of respect. I can't begin to say how careful I've had to be."

Merlin hinted at a glance over his shoulder, to the eavesdropping servant that was not quite hidden from view, and Geoffrey caught the hint. That was why he'd been up so early, to search the records for some precedent that could be used to reduce the potential uproar of Katryn's 'condition'. But it seemed the Court Sorcerer had already devised one.

The archivist raised his eyebrows in understanding and sympathy, his eyes glinting with admiration of Merlin's quick-thinking.

"Ah yes, you would have to be careful. You're the Leader of the Old Religion, and you cannot be seen to favour the traditions of one group over another. Not even the traditions you yourself were raised to. An unenviable position, I'm sure, but you've shown yourself well up to the task of bearing that burden." He inclined his head. "I assume the King is also aware of the political stance you've had to take on this?"

Merlin nodded, in what was only a very small lie. Arthur would be 'aware' of that stance within the next fifteen minutes.

"I'm just heading to discuss the final details with him now, and assist in preparing the invitations for the more notable guests from the neighbouring kingdoms."

Geoffrey gestured for Merlin to proceed with what he'd been doing.

"Then I shall allow you to return to your duties, and once again give my congratulations."

"I appreciate the sentiment."

The two of them went their separate ways, with Merlin hiding his inward annoyance at having to endure the farce of making up these excuses because of politics. If he's been a commoner, and Katryn were not the Queen's maidservant, barely an eyelid would have been batted under these same circumstances. After all, he wasn't abandoning her with a bastard child, but rather acknowledging her and taking responsibility for them both. There was also the fact, albeit one he'd never spoken of openly, that _he_ was bastard. A child born out of wedlock, to a mother who had then be forced by circumstance to raise him on her own.

Oh how the more arrogant members of the court would scorn him for that if they knew. But the only reason he'd been born out of wedlock was because Uther's persecution of his father had forced Balinor to flee to prevent Hunith being targeted as well.

Merlin hid the frown he would have worn at those thoughts, instead forcing a mild yet pleasant smile to remain on his face during the remaining walk to Arthur's chambers.

The King was up and eating breakfast when the Court Sorcerer walked in without knocking, and he did little more than roll his eyes at that customary lack of courtesy from his former manservant. He knew when Merlin was faking a smile.

"You know about the rumours."

Merlin slumped into one of the chairs near the hearth, after directing a nod of greeting to Bel.

"Yes, and I've already begun measures to deal with them. Officially, the reason why my engagement and marriage to Katryn are coming _after_ the fact she's already carrying my child, is because up until this point I've been 'respecting Dryad Customs' in my courtship of her. Marriage doesn't exist in the culture she was raised to. When a Dryad lives her life bound to one place, and can expect to live several centuries, marrying a human man who will likely tire of her within a couple of years is a pointless gesture. As the Leader of the Old Religion, despite my personal preferences, I've had to respect that... And I've just had a talk with Lord Geoffrey, within earshot of at least one servant and two guards. Word will get around, even after that servant yesterday was reprimanded."

Arthur grimaced.

"So you know about that as well."

"Gaius came and had breakfast with me before I came here. He told me about the rumours, and the political problems that it could cause."

Arthur pushed his plate away, most of the food gone from it, and got to his feet.

"Well I'm glad _you've_ got your wits about you today. You've saved me at least some of the headache this will cause. We're just lucky that out of all the monarchs who I intend to invite, there's only one that may express disapproval."

Merlin winced, knowing exactly which one it would be.

"King Bayard. He's always been a stiff, and I'm no favourite of his... Not after that incident with the poisoned chalice. Even if we proved that Nimueh was to blame for that, I still humiliated him in front of the court."

Arthur strode over to his desk and picked up a quill and paper.

"Then we'll make sure to emphasise the fact that Katryn is a half-dryad. She'll understand the need for damage-control on this, even if we're being forced to use her race as an excuse. And if we make sure that a large number of the guests are from the magical community." He glanced at Merlin. "Are there any other 'magical races' you could invite at short notice?"

Merlin came over, frowning in thought.

"Well the Dryads are part of the grouping known as the fae, and are highly respected within it. It might be possible to convince representatives of the other more-mobile members of that group to attend, but not in the time that we have. Wood Sprites would be the best bet, perhaps a Water Sprite or two from the Lake of the Blessed. Wind Sprites are a no, they're impossible to track down and hate to stay in one place for even a short amount of time. Fire Sprites... well that one should be obvious." He sighed. "Selkies live too far north, and I've never dealt with them before. Elves? Well supposedly they still exist, but I couldn't begin to guess where they're living right now. After that we move on into the area of fae such as the Villia, but they live in the Spirit Realm so that's a no too. And I _really_ don't think we want the Sidhe or Pixies attending, do you?"

Arthur shook his head quite emphatically to that thought, and began to make notes.

"So as far as guests from the magical community, it's going to be Druids, members of the Order of Forthweard, and possibly some Wood and Water Sprites. No Dryads, because they can't come that far from their trees."

Merlin pointed to the list.

"Don't forget Kilgharrah. I know he'll be sat outside, but he'll still be here. I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't invite him."

Arthur added him.

"And Kilgharrah." He paused, thinking. "So apart from the mass of Camelot notables, and the invited monarchs, who else needs to be invited?"

There was quiet, before Merlin's expression took on a wistful smile and he patted Arthur on the shoulder.

"I'm going to make a trip, I may be gone all day, and you're going to have to explain to Balther that I've borrowed Scild for it."

Arthur set down the quill and paper, confused.

"Where are you going?"

Merlin's smile widened.

"To Ealdor... I think it's time I convinced my mother to move to Camelot."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: SO MUCH POLITICS! Gah, Merlin really doesn't get it easy, does he? But anyway, yep, Hunith is going to move to Camelot! I wanted to do it in Season 5, but couldn't risk it causing a huge plot-hole should the writers have included her in the later episodes. But now, I can do what I want! :D**


	11. Unity Through Vows 'Part 2'

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next bit :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 11: Unity Through Vows ~Part 2~

It was with a feeling of both excitement and nostalgia, that Merlin commanded Friou and Scild to bank and descend towards the village where he'd been born. The place he'd spent the first nineteen years of his life, and which had played such an important role in shaping him into the person he'd become. Growing up as an often-scorned, bastard-born son had taught him to value the things that he did have, like his mother and his friend Will. Being labelled as a mischief-maker and nuisance, had taught him the value of giving people the chance to prove themselves. And while Will wasn't here to see him now, he knew he'd would be proud of him... And he'd be proud of what Merlin had done for Ealdor.

The village came into view, revealed as half as big again than it had used to be. The Druid road had been extended to join up with the trade roads both in Escetia and Camelot, turning it into a new direct and safe route through the Forest of Ascetir, instead of trade being forced to divert north around it. And Ealdor, placed just a stone's throw from the road, was fast becoming more than just a small farming village. There was now an inn, and the last letter he'd received mentioned word of a merchant wanting to set up a permanent trading outpost between the village and the road.

Placed on a new and important trade route, right between Camelot and Escetia and protected by both... The people living in the village would never have to fear being attacked by bandits ever again.

There were some initial shouts of alarm when the two wyverns came over the trees at the edge of the village, until one of people in the fields closest recognised the rider. The shouts turned to joy as everyone rushed to the village square, and Merlin smiled at the welcome when Friou landed and he stepped off. He was no longer the village annoyance. He was a powerful warlock, influential noble, and yet still held the greatest respect for the people here. That he'd never forgotten them, despite the rough time many of them had given him, was part of why they looked up to him so much now.

"Merlin!" Hunith dashed through the crowd of villagers and rushed up to her son, enveloping him in a hug. "It's been so long since you've visited. It's good to see you."

Another villager came over, Michael. He pointed towards the barn, his expression more than pleased.

"Did you know? King Fyrendir sent his Court Sorceress, Iunia, to put spells on our barn and storage! The pests can't get in there anymore, and the crops store for longer."

Merlin, arm still around his mother's shoulders, laughed and grinned.

"I know... I suggested it to him. All the farms in Escetia will be getting it done too, although I asked him to make sure Ealdor was first. I've been arranging for the same thing to be done across all of Camelot, too."

There were numerous gasps, and several cheers, as the villagers crowded close to express their thanks. But Merlin waved them back, still grinning, before waiting for them to quieten down and let him speak again.

"I've also an announcement to make, but which I want to speak to my mother about first. I'll tell you all as soon as I've talked with her."

Murmurs of speculation sprang up, even as the way was cleared to allow mother and son to walk to her house. Hunith kept glancing at him, and he kept smiling back with mischief in his eyes, until the two of them were inside the cottage and he'd closed the door.

Hunith then gave him a long look, eyebrows raised.

"And what has you acting so secretive?"

Merlin chuckled, deliberately waiting for several seconds before replying.

"I'm marrying Katryn at the end of the week, _and_ you're going to be a grandmother."

Hunith's eyes widened in shock, which rapidly turned to elation and excitement as she threw herself at him to hug him.

"Married?! Oh, Merlin, that's _wonderful!_" She pulled back, starting to think. "I need to get my best dress and make sure there's nothing that needs to be mended. And a gift, for Katryn! And-"

She was interrupted by Merlin putting a finger to her lips, his expression amused.

"Don't worry about your dress. As being Court Sorcerer means I have to have a State wedding in front of the court, Gwen will have a dress made for you. As for gifts, trust me. You being there for the wedding is more than enough."

Hunith calmed a little, but her mind then turned to other practicalities.

"Well then, I still need to arrange for someone in the village to look after my fields while I'm in Camelo-"

"Mother." Merlin's expression became earnest, and hopeful. "I know you've said no before, at the time when I first was declared a noble, but... Will you move to Camelot? It doesn't have to be in the castle, or the city. I know that's why you didn't want to come before. But there's the farms on my lands south of the city, that are run by druid families. I could have a cottage built for you there, and you could have farm there just as you have here."

Hunith went quiet.

"But, Merlin..."

His tone became pleading.

"I've missed you so much, with how few times I've seen you over all these years. I want you to be part of your grandchild's life, more than just the rare times I'll be able to bring them to visit you. Will you, please?"

Hunith turned away uncertainly.

"Ealdor has always been my home... I was born here, my parents were born and lived here, and I returned here after my time as a servant in King Herwen's household. I've known little else."

Merlin smiled in reassurance.

"It was the same for me... Think of it this way. If you move to Camelot, then Jacob's oldest son and his wife will be able to have a home of their own. Instead of them having to scrape together the materials and money it will cost them to build and set up a cottage themselves. You'll be able to gift this house to someone who really needs it, and make a big difference to their life." He put is hands on her shoulders. "Moving on from the past doesn't mean you forget it, I never have. Ealdor will always have a special place in my heart, and I'll always look out for the people who live here."

Hunith faced him again, cupping the side of his face with a hand.

"You're really set on this, aren't you? It means a great deal to you, for me to be close by and able to see and be with the family you're beginning."

Merlin brushed back a loose strand of greying hair from her face.

"Call it a son's wish to see his mother looked after. You went through so much when you raised me, so many hardships and fears for my safety, and I wouldn't be the person I am if not for you... It's my turn to look after you, if you'll let me."

There was a long pause, terribly tense, before Hunith finally smiled. She had tears in her eyes, which she quickly wiped away.

"Then I will. I've a few things I must take with me, but most of this can stay for Ashton and his wife to use. When do you need us to leave?"

Merlin pulled her close, understanding very well how emotional it was for her to have made this decision.

"There's no rush, there's still the rest of the day. So long as we leave a couple of hours before sunset, we can be in Camelot by nightfall. There's time to say farewells to everyone."

Hunith wiped away yet more tears and nodded.

"Then could you go and start telling everyone, while I pack? I'm sure they'll want to hold a gathering before we go."

Merlin nodded and went outside. His happiness at his mother agreeing to move, in contrast to his own wistful sadness at her leaving Ealdor, and the memory of when he'd been the one to leave. Her living with the druids on the farms would mean she was close enough to attend gatherings and celebrations at the castle, but at the same time keep her clear of court politics. And in his mind, he was already making a note to ask Arthur to grant her the title of 'Lady Hunith of the House of Garrah', tomorrow.

Merlin went to Jacob's house first, to inform his son about Hunith gifting her cottage to him and his wife. He then went to other cottages after that, the word of Hunith's departure spearing fast, until everyone in the village banded together to prepare a modest but plentiful farewell feast in the central square of the village. That was when he announced the reason for her decision, and the atmosphere took on an additional festive air.

When Hunith eventually came out of her cottage, she was enveloped in hugs and well-wishes, and the tears she'd held back earlier now returned in full. The few individuals in the village who played instruments, struck up music on pipe and drum. Dancing began, with smiles and laughter... until it came to the second hour after midday, and afternoon chores and tasks began to beckon.

It was now that the final farewells were made, and the villagers watched as Merlin helped his mother astride Scild. He secured her to the wyvern's harness along with her small bag of possessions, double-checking everything before going to Friou. It was then that the few remaining gathered villagers waved the pair off as they take to the sky.

Hunith was quiet during the flight, and Merlin tactfully allowed her to think. Talking while flying would have meant shouting to each other over the wind, and across the distance between the two wyverns. Something he knew she wouldn't be up for in her current frame-of-mind. He kept their arrival at Camelot as low-key as he could, avoiding taking her through the castle by having the wyverns land on the battlements close to his chambers. He'd done it often enough in the past that few people below did more than give them the barest glance.

Hunith was starting to look a bit nervous now, yet she relaxed as soon as Merlin ushered her into his chamber. They were, in their own way, so much like Gaius' chambers that the familiarity reassured her. Warren was in there sweeping the floor, and he quickly set aside his broom as soon as the pair of them entered.

"Merlin. Do you need me for anything?"

The warlock gently brought Hunith forward and seated her in one of the nearby chairs.

"Could you look after my mother until I get back? I need to let Arthur and Gwen know she's here, and have a room arranged." When Hunith turned her head sharply at the mention of a room, Merlin smiled wryly at her reaction. "It's just until after the wedding, and I arrange a cottage for you on my land."

In the silence that followed, Warren went to the hearth to set a kettle of water to heat.

"I'll see to it's she's comfortable."

"Thanks."

Merlin gave his mother a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before walking out, at which point he switched from a casual pace to one that was a bit more brisk. Finding Gwen was easy, all he had to do was use his senses to locate the biggest concentration of dryad magic within the castle. Because wherever Gwen was, Katryn would be, and he found the two of them in the Queen's chambers, discussing wedding plans.

Gwen looked up as the door opened after a polite knock, and she was on her feet immediately upon seeing who it was.

"Merlin! How was it in Ealdor?"

Merlin smiled, taking a breath to steady himself that he hadn't realised he'd needed.

"Mother has agreed to move to Camelot, and will live at the druid farms after the wedding. She'll need a room until then, and she's needs a dress for the ceremony."

Gwen noticed the small wince he tagged on after that, but it was Katryn who interpreted it.

"She'll also need some day-to-day clothing to wear, or the more arrogant members of the nobility here, will look down on her." She headed over to her fiancé, taking hold of his hands in reassurance. "Don't worry, Gwen and I will take care of all of that. Hunith is in your chambers?" Merlin nodded. "Then I have a dress she can wear, and will go take it to her now. _You_ can worry about tomorrow's magic lesson, and also about the matter of your mother being granted an official title of nobility."

Merlin blinked.

"Wait, how did you know I pla-"

Katryn put a finger over his lips to shush him. Her eyebrows were raised.

"I know castle politics as well as you do, remember. Until now I've been the Queen's Personal Maidservant."

Gwen chuckled at the expression on Merlin's face.

"And soon to be 'Head of the Castle Staff'." The queen's expression became wry. "I, and Arthur, have begun to grow rather tired of how presumptive our present one can be about the security of his job, and of how dismissive and brutal he can be towards the castle servants. He's a throwback to the years when Uther ruled and there was no queen, so now I've decided I want a firm but fairer hand at the helm."

There was a long pause, before Merlin's startled expression began to change to an amused smirk. He then chuckled.

"Oh I would so love to see the look on his face when you tell him that. He was one of the _banes_ of my life when I was a servant. The castle staff will adore you _forever_, for getting rid of him."

Gwen chuckled and began to shoo the warlock towards the door.

"I know that. He was one of the banes of _my_ life too, back when _I_ was a servant. Now off with you! Go see Arthur, and your mother's title sorted out."

Moments later Merlin found himself outside the door, with it then being shut firmly and unceremoniously in his face. He then blinked in confusion, before some gut instinct told him he'd best start getting used to this. That now he was leaving his life as a bachelor behind, and stepping into married life, he was going to have Katryn and Gwen shooing him out of rooms and closing doors in his face... Rather often.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, yep. Merlin, you're going to have a lot of things to get used to lol :D**


	12. Unity Through Vows 'Part 3'

**Alaia Skyhawk: WEDDING! And also, I'd like to say it's official that I've had inspiration issues with getting chapters done on this lately. I'll aim for 1-2 chapters a week, but it's probable it'll end up being 1 per week until I get my impetus back.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 12: Unity Through Vows ~Part 3~

When Merlin entered the King's study, he was wearing a rather bemused expression on his face. That in itself wasn't a completely uncommon sight for Arthur to see, but there was something subtle about this particular bemused frown that had him start to smile.

He regarded Merlin from behind his desk, and laughed knowingly.

"You had a door shut in your face, didn't you?"

"Yes."

At Merlin's bland response, Arthur laughed again and watched as the warlock went to the second desk in the room.

"Get used to it. Gwen does it to me _all_ the time."

Merlin paused mid-way in sitting down, the two friends staring at each other... before both of them burst into chuckles and Merlin sat shaking his head. He then put his hands up in surrender.

"I officially hand over everything to do with the wedding, to Gwen and Katryn. I doubt I'd get a word in edgeways anyway."

Arthur nodded at that, still smiling, but then his manner became more serious.

"Did Hunith agree to move to Camelot?"

Merlin nodded.

"Yes, she'll be living at the druid farms after the wedding. She's no interest in living in the castle, and I don't want her caught up in court politics either."

Arthur winced, as did Merlin.

"Being your mother, she won't be able to avoid it entirely."

"Yes, which is why I need you to sign a Title Granting Nobility, for me. Naming her a member of my house, and granting her the same rank and privileges." Merlin started to gather the materials he'd need. "I'll prepare the document, all you need to do is sign and seal it."

Arthur observed his Court Sorcerer for a long moment before he spoke.

"When shall I announce it?"

Merlin paused in what he was doing, to glance at the king.

"Queen Annis should be here the day after tomorrow, as will be Fyren and Mithian. They'll need to be welcomed with a small banquet, just a few select guests. We don't need to formally announce that my mother has a title. We need only have her arrive at and attend the banquet to make the court aware of who she is, the rank she has... and of who they will upset if they try anything to take advantage of her."

Arthur leaned back in is chair, mulling that over thoughtfully.

"It might be better to wait until Bayard arrives, three days from now, rather than subject Hunith to two such banquets. King Rodor of Nemeth should arrive on that day as well."

Merlin tilted his head, speaking with false helpfulness.

"I think we're going to need a bigger 'High Table', Arthur. What with four kings, three queens, me, my mother, and Katryn all sat at it."

Arthur picked up and threw a paperweight at Merlin, who caught it easily.

"Merlin, shut up."

"Yes, Sire."

Comfortable silence fell between them, both resuming their work. It was an air of calm composure that they maintained in public for the next three days, up to and including the banquet.

But by then, for Merlin, the thought of the wedding that would take place the morning after the next was starting to take its toll on his nerves.

Evening on that third day found him peering through a narrow gap between the doors into the banquet hall, his gaze checking who was present. The High Table had been extended for the evening, with Gwen and Arthur in the middle as expected. The chairs to their left and right were empty and waiting, with the remainder on Gwen's side seating Fyren, Mithian, and and empty chair left for Hunith. On Arthur's side, the side where Merlin would sit, was King Rodor, Queen Annis, and a slightly-frowning King Bayard.

Merlin let out a sight of resignation at seeing who he'd be dealing with for the evening, although he was at least thankful Arthur had arranged to keep Hunith as far from Bayard as possible.

There was a light tap on his shoulder, causing Merlin to almost jump in fright, before a glance to the side revealed Katryn stood there. She smiled calmly, reassuring, and then manhandled his arm into the proper position for her to set her hand on it and be 'escorted' into the hall.

She chuckled at his obvious nerves.

"Relax, the worst one in there is Bayard. And in the face of the support of three other kingdoms, he has little influence at this gathering."

Merlin sighed, peering through the gap again at his mother. Hunith had been garbed in dress of russet linen brocade, Gwen having wisely avoided the silk that the former commoner would certainly have refused. His mother looked resplendent, and rather calmer about the situation than he felt. But then she did have Mithian sat beside her, and the Queen of Escetia had never been one to hold rank of greater importance than personality and morals.

"It's Bayard I'm worried about. He's maintained the alliance he sighed with Uther, but ever since magic was legalised and Arthur named a Court Sorcerer, he's started distancing himself. I think he feels threatened by the power Camelot now has. It doesn't matter that Arthur has no interest in conquering his neighbours, the fact remains that if he chose to he has the forces to totally overwhelm Mercia with barely any effort at all." He grimaced. "And being invited to our wedding will only remind him of that."

Katryn frowned.

"But it's just a wedding."

Merlin glanced at her.

"You've not studied inter-kingdom politics yet, so you don't know the history. For what is 'just' our wedding, there are _seven_ monarchs in that room who are attending. For Bayard's wedding sixteen years ago, out of all his allies, only _three_ made the effort to attend. The rest cited that they had matters to take care of within their kingdoms that were more important... Which is the standard polite way of saying 'I don't want to attend because I don't respect you enough to travel so far'. You've also got to consider that there are at least _four_ high-ranked members of the Old Religion in there too, and they practically count as monarchs themselves."

Katryn's expression now began to reflect his concern, as she began to understand.

"The number of 'monarchs' that have come for our wedding, shows how much more respect and influence that you and Arthur have compared to him. He feels belittled, and fears his kingdom will be sidelined and overshadowed by Camelot."

Merlin nodded, taking a breath to steady himself as he prepared to open and enter the banquet hall.

"The treaty with Mercia is starting to creak and crack at the seams, and I expect it may break soon if Bayard's view remains unchanged. If it does fail, I expect he'll ally himself with King Lot, and that means I'll have to start really watching for assassins again."

Katryn's eyes widened.

"You think Bayard and Lot would try to have Arthur killed?"

Merlin reached out to the doors using magic.

"No... I think they'd target me, you, and my mother."

The doors were pushed open, the herald stood just inside calling out to the august gathering within.

"Lord Merlin Garrah, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, and Lady Katryn of the Heartwood of Verlnath."

Merlin and Katryn strode gracefully into the banquet hall, the guests rising to their feet, and both he and her acknowledging them with small nods and smiles. He was relieved to see Nellan and Kalem among the contingent from the Isle of the Blessed, and that buoyed him as he took his position with just King Rodor and Queen Annis between him and a rather unhappy King Bayard.

Merlin had to suspect that a certain incident with a poisoned goblet was contributing to the man's dislike of him. That wouldn't be an event or affront soon forgotten, not for a man like Bayard.

Either oblivious to the tension to his right, or simply choosing to ignore it for now, Arthur looked around at the guests and smiled.

"I wish to welcome you all to this feast, held in honour of our much-respected Court Sorcerer, and of the fair Katryn of Verlnath. Both have contributed greatly to this kingdom and the prosperity we now enjoy along with our neighbouring kingdoms. This is reflected in the show of support you have given by coming here tonight and for the wedding."

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who took his cue to take over the speech.

"And I must say, on behalf of myself and my fiancée, that we are honoured beyond measure by your attendance. We thank you for being here, and hope that you find the rest of the celebrations to be both enjoyable and memorable... Let the feast begin!"

Merlin sat down, taking this moment to warmly greet Rodor, Annis, and Bayard in turn. He did his best over the ensuing hour to keep the King of Mercia as part of the conversation, a difficult feat managed only by turning the topic to trade and a mention of Lord Tarven of Ulwin and his late father. Hargren being the one man in Camelot, other than Uther, that Bayard had truly respected.

But even so, Merlin was more than glad when the feast ended and he was able to depart with his mother to escort her to her guest room. Katryn left with Gwen, Annis, and Mithian, leaving Rodor, Fyren, and Bayard to leave in the company of Arthur.

But the real trial came the next day, where by social tradition Katryn spend most of the day with the most significant of the female guests, and Merlin spent his time with the men. That is, he was going to have to play polite in front of Bayard for several hours.

Sat in one of the smaller gathering halls, sipping on herbal tea while most of the other men in the room enjoyed wine, Merlin couldn't help but feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck every time Bayard looked in his direction. In the end he decided that offence was the best defence, and that making a point of talking to the man was going to be better than waiting for him to come talk to him, if the king even decided to that is.

Merlin started to stroll in Bayard's general direction, pausing to talk to other guests along the way. It was thus about ten minutes after making his move, that he arrived where the King of Mercia was sitting.

Merlin regarded him pleasantly, even as he waved for a servant to come over and refill Bayard's wine.

"I didn't get the chance to ask last night, but how was your journey? I understand you intend to visit Ulwin on your way home."

King Bayard remained wary as the warlock seated himself opposite, but answered all the same.

"The roads were dry, as was the weather. And Lord Tarven has invited me to meet his new wife and daughter. I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting either of them."

Merlin nodded in understanding.

"I haven't either, although I hear that Lady Eraline and little Lady Rebessa are both so charming that birds descend from the trees to greet them when they enter the estate's gardens."

Bayard raised his eyebrows a little, and there was a barb in his tone.

"...For a man who was once a mere servant, you seem surprisingly poetic."

Merlin remained composed, having expected to be tested. This was the first time he and the king had interacted with each other in any way since the goblet incident all those years previous.

"That comes from years of being a scholar of magic, My Lord. Gaius was most insistent that I have a rounded education, and when I became Arthur's First Advisor I was required to expand my education even further into the realms of court and kingdom politics. An understanding of the gentile arts was a natural extension of that, and I find that being able to talk poetically has its advantages at times."

Bayard looked moderately surprised, although he remained wary. There was a glint in his eyes.

"And was it your 'poetic' words that brought the Lady Katryn into your bed _before_ you even announced your intent to marry her?"

There was a moment of tense silence between the two of them, before Merlin calmly responded.

"I have heard such accusations several times over the past few days, and so I won't take offence at you repeating them. But if you take the time to consult with any of the representatives of the Old Religion who are present, you would know that in Dryad Culture there is no such thing as marriage. Katryn is a half-dryad, a dryad who had her tree destroyed before she reached maturity. She was never raised to accept or understand the concept of marriage, and that she has accepted my proposal at all is a mark of her respect for me... Just as my respect for her, by not pressuring her into the ceremony, is a part of my responsibilities as the Leader of the Old Religion. As the High Priest of the Isle of the Blessed, I am expected to show understanding of all traditions within the varied branches of the Magical Community, and that is what I have done."

Bayard's eyes narrowed.

"Pretty words, and pretty excuse. Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Merlin remained composed, despite the inward desire to do otherwise.

"I expect nothing of you, My Lord. I understand that many will refuse to believe the circumstances of my and Katryn's relationship, and I know that many will never comprehend the complexities of the politics I am involved with as Leader of the Old Religion. But such is the fate of any man who finds himself in such a highly-placed position as I am. I cannot expect to please everyone, and so I must simply do as best I can."

There was another tense pause as the two men regarded each other, but it was broken when a certain druid came over.

Nellan smiled in greeting, and executed a half-bow to both Bayard and Merlin.

"King Bayard, it is a pleasure to meet you. And Lord Merlin, may I give you congratulations on behalf of myself, my sister Ellyn, and all of the Oristalla Clan." He straightened up, his expression pleased. "The announcement of your wedding has already spread far and wide among the Clans, and had been met with much joy. And there are many groups of Dryads who have also heard the news, and they are _greatly_ impressed by your respect of their culture in your courtship of Lady Katryn. The Druids have been asked to convey a number of gifts from them, which should begin to arrive this evening and during tomorrow before and after the ceremony."

Merlin blinked in surprise, rising to his feet.

"They're sending gifts? While I'm grateful, I never expected... What would they even send me?"

Nellan continued to smile, pointedly ignoring King Bayard yet without seeming to do so.

"Across several of the Heartwoods, dryads are gathering branches carefully selected to become staffs for the Order of Forthweard. They are also growing and gathering numerous rare and powerful herbs, to be used by the Order to create medicines for the care of the poor and disadvantaged within the kingdoms where the Order operates. They knew you would refuse gifts to you personally, but that you would be most pleased by gifts that would be used for the benefit of others."

Merlin, overwhelmed by gratitude, broke into a smile.

"Then, when circumstances permit, I will make a personal effort to visit each and every Heartwood that has sent gifts, to express my deepest thanks. Their gifts will help a great many people."

Nellan turned, gesturing to another druid who had entered the hall with him.

"I also must inform you that Cerell, leader of one of the remaining few clans you've yet to me, has recently arrived here in Camelot. I brought him with me from the Isle. He wishes to discuss the matter of you being named Raeswa of his clan."

Merlin nodded sharply, and glanced a Bayard.

"My Lord, I must make my farewells for this moment, and state that I hope you enjoy the rest of the coming festivities. My duties call." He and Nellan moved away from the king, to which Merlin waited only so long as it took to be out of earshot before muttering to the druid. "Thanks for the rescue. I've disarmed a lot of his barbs against me, but he's never going to accept me. I expect trouble from Mercia, although I doubt Bayard would ever risk stooping to invasion. Despite that, I don't expect him to remain quiet."

Nellan's smile had faded, his expression now serious as he murmured a response.

"You hold power greater and more widespread than any king. He feels threatened by you, and also by the might that Camelot now wields. Men who fear you, can be the most dangerous men of all if they have the means to act on that fear."

Merlin's thoughts drifted to his mother, and he frowned.

"My mother will be living on the druid farms after this... Storm Druids already guard the village, but I'd like an additional guard dedicated to watching for threats aimed at her."

Nellan nodded, equally grim.

"I'll select someone for the role as soon as I return to the Isle. There are several priestesses who would be perfect for the task, and your mother would be none-the-wiser to the real reason for their presence on the farms."

Merlin sighed, letting those words push aside his concern and steady his nerves. And when the following morning came, when he entered the Great Hall filled with guests. He walked up the aisle, flanked by Friou and Scild, with great pride. Pride that only grew when he saw his mother dabbing away tears of joy at this moment, and grew further and was joined by awe when the doors opened again and it was Katryn's turn to come down the length of the chamber.

For she was not garbed in the usual gown of white or cream, but rather in one that was the rich shades and colours of the forest. Living ivy and flowers trailed and draped around the bodice and skirt, kept from wilting by her dryad magic, and yet more leaves and flowers were woven into her hair.

Once her hands were held in his, all else seemed to vanish as he gazed into her eyes. No amount of politics or worries would intrude on this moment, with their friends and family looking on as King Arthur personally conducted the ceremony. All was perfect as he bound their joint hands not with embroidered silk as was the norm for State Weddings, but with a woven garland of tiny forest flowers.

And then came the question.

"Lord Merlin Garrah. What vow do you make to she who would be your wife?"

Merlin gazed into Katryn's eyes unwaveringly.

"I vow to love her always, unto the end of my days. To hold her forever in my heart."

Arthur looked to Katryn.

"Lady Katryn of Verlnath. What vow do you make to he who would be your husband?"

Katryn smiled softly.

"I vow to love him always, unto the end of my days. To cherish every moment that he is by my side."

Arthur lifted his hand from theirs, and called out to the guests.

"Then I declare you as Lord Merlin and Lady Katryn of the House of Garrah! Long and prosperous may your life be together!

As Merlin and Katryn turned to face the guests, of who all but a certain small minority were cheering or smiling as they applauded, he raised his head in quiet defiance of those few. Whatever challenges were to come, he would face them with Katryn at his side."

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: There we go, a bit more foreshadowing of possible plot-points to come during this 'Season'. I'll see you all with the next chapter, hopefully within a few days :)**


	13. A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat Pt1

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here you go. I got past my Writer's Block by switching this event with the one I was stuck on, which will now follow this one. Prepare for lots of mental observations by Morgana :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 13: A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat ~Part 1~

It was long since the group had been carried beyond the borders of Camelot, within the grasp of the White Dragon Aithusa. It had been weeks since they'd been set down and had begun the long walk to Kent, while Aithusa maintained a discrete yet ceaseless vigil from high above. Horses might have sped the journey, but they carried not the coin to buy them. Stealing enough for their group would have drawn too much attention, and with the prize that travelled with them, Cymen was unwilling to take that risk.

Morgana watched him from the depths of her hood, blue eyes glinting with a mixture of pity and disdain. That he valued her enough to resort to trudging across country on foot, rather than risk her being discovered, didn't raise her opinion of him. Nor was she about to tell him that she could have spent all this time erasing their tracks even as they made them, meaning little risk at all if they'd stolen horses. No, she was in no rush on this path she'd chosen, and there was a certain degree of cynical amusement to be had from deliberately allowing this discomfort to him and all his men.

Yet now, it seemed they were nearing their destination. She'd sensed the wary eyes of lookouts posted among the trees, and could see the tell-tale hints of smoke rising above the forest from the valley whose base lay before the group. Reaching out with her mind's eye confirmed the presence of around a hundred men, but by their gear they were little better equipped than bandits. However, the camp had an almost military precision to it in the way it seemed to be organised. This was the small start of what could become a much bigger and more dangerous army... Should they be provided with equipment that gave them an advantage over their foes.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment as she continued to walk, before resuming her observations of Cymen. Yet she remained silent, and said nothing of the fact she already knew exactly what lay up ahead. There was little benefit to her in revealing what she could learn at a distance. It would only encourage them to think of what an asset she'd be on the battlefield. And if they tried to force her to go to one, by her own threat she would have to walk away from this. She _had _to stay among these people for as long as possible, to speed their destined doom as much as she could, for Arthur's sake. And for the lives that would be spared in the long-term.

She was to be the snake whose venom would be used against their enemies, yet which sat around their necks and whose coils would slowly strangle them. That analogy, a reminder of all the dark magic she'd once used that involved snakes, sickened her to the core. Yet it was accurate. They would not see her tightening coils until it was too late. Too enamoured by the power that dripped from her fangs.

"We're here. All of you, go get some rest. I must report our success to my father."

Cymen's men, their group now at the edge of the camp, gratefully slipped away. He then turned to glance at Morgana, and gestured for her to follow. She did so in continued silence, and began to prepare herself mentally. This was the moment she would have to leave behind the hermit she'd become. It was time to resume a façade of the mantle of cold confidence she'd once possessed. A man who sought to rule all of Albion, would be impressed by nothing less.

When they reached the centre of the camp and the large tent that stood there, there were three faces she immediately recognised. Cymen's two brothers, nameless to her at this moment, and also the dominating figure of his father. Aelle was exactly as she'd seen him in her visions, and radiated just as much arrogance. His eyes held an un-sated greed, and also the shadow of a penchant for cruelty.

And then those eyes turned along with their owner, to regard the sight of his eldest son approaching him. The woman in the coarse brown cloak was of little interest.

"Cymen, you've returned... Report!"

His tone was as cold as Uther had been at his worst, yet Cymen seemed unfazed by it. He was clearly used to being barked at by his father in this fashion.

"We attacked a village inside Camelot's border, as planned, and watched. Two of my scouts were captured, and died for their stupidity, when the King of Camelot and his men came to investigate. I did not personally see them, but their response was quick and the knights who first checked on the village were well-equipped and thorough in their initial search for us. The presence of Camelot's Court Sorcerer wasn't confirmed, but the King's was. If he was there, his sorcerer was with him. That he came personally indicates they took the attack on the village very seriously. Their reputation is well-deserved, and they seem to be as formidable as we've been told."

Aelle scowled, although it was not directed at his son but rather what the report meant for their plans.

"Then we will need large army to stand any chance of capturing his Kingdom. We will have to conquer the weaker kingdoms first, until I have enough at my command to challenge him." Morgana snorted quietly to herself at that, drawing his attention. His expression became tinged with outrage at her obvious scorn. "_Who _is the wench?"

Before Cymen could answer, Morgana took one final breath to brace herself and threw back her hood. She then regarded Aelle with a small smirk, her tone laced with amusement at his ignorance.

"I am Morgana Pendragon, once High Priestess of the Triple Goddess and also Queen of Camelot." Her smirk widened. "I already know who you are, Aelle of No Prior Significance. What makes you think you can take Camelot's throne, and keep it, when I both took and lost it twice? You stand no chance at all against the Once and Future King and Emrys."

Aelle's face suffused with rage at her words, and he glared at his son.

"Cymen! Did you bring this woman here to _mock _me?!"

His son flinched, glaring at her in dislike for her deliberate act in humiliating him, before he answered his father.

"She has come to give us her assistance."

_That_ caused his father to pause in surprise, before Aelle then suspiciously regarded her once more.

"Is this a trick?"

Morgana dropped her smirk, and drew herself up haughtily instead. The image of a powerful and confident sorceress.

"I will enchant weapons and armour for you, within the limits of the materials to do so that you can supply me with. Thus, if you are bad at securing the materials, the enchantments you gain will be weak. All I demand in return is safe sanctuary for myself and my companion, Aithusa, the White Dragon. Neither of us will fight in battle for you, your men must do that on their own. If you make any attempt to send either of us onto the battlefield, we may choose to abandon you to face Arthur on your own. I will give you a second chance if you aren't too insistent. But if you do try to force us, and annoy me, Aithusa may decide to incinerate half your forces before we leave." She looked away from him, dismissive. "Those are my terms, so you can either accept them or lose the most powerful ally you're ever likely to get. The choice is yours."

Aelle's other two sons had come over now, in time to hear her blunt and arrogant statements. The elder of the two growled under his breath, as furious as his father, and lunged at her even as Cymen called out.

"Wlencing! Don't!"

Morgana raised a hand, her eyes gleaming gold, and Wlencing came to a sudden and startled stop. She then flicked her fingers as one would to swat away an insect, and the man went flying into the side of and crushed a nearby tent almost twenty feet away. The display of power and the ease with which she used it, gave Aelle pause. The silence stretching out for several seconds, until he spoke as his middle son scrambled dazed to his feet.

"Sanctuary surely can't be all that you want from this? If your brother has seized the throne back from you twice, I would expect you want revenge."

Morgana glanced at him, her expression turning solemn and cold.

"Revenge is for those who are fools, I have learnt that lesson well. It was never my destiny to rule Camelot, yet my anger and bitterness blinded me to that. I have come to show you that yours is a similar fate. That if you persist in trying to take Camelot, in order to rule all of Albion, you will find only your death as the prize. Such would be my fate, if I had continued my own quest for Camelot's throne. Yet your son desired to gain my magic to support your cause, and chose to ignore my warnings when he enlisted my aid on your behalf."

Aelle walked up to her, tall enough that she had to raise her chin to meet his stare.

"And those warnings would be what?"

She stared back, unflinching.

"As I said, you will go only to your death. Refuse my aid, and you will live longer. Accept it, and see your life cut short by Arthur's blade. As a Seer, my visions have never been wrong. Only my past, denial-filled interpretations of them have been in error. I am wiser now. I know truth when I See it."

Aelle's eyes narrowed, and he turned to walk away from her.

"A man makes his own path, and I _will_ rule Albion! Your predictions are wrong." He gestured sharply to his youngest son, who had lingered quietly in the background. He was the only one of the four men present who showed any hint of concern at her words. "Find her a tent, and see to it she's kept comfortable. Once she's told you what she needs for her magic, send men out to get it."

The two older sons followed Aelle into his large tent, leaving Morgana stood with the youngest. That blond-haired man turning to regard her with solemn brown eyes, before he reached out gently to take her by the arm and lead her away.

"My father has spoken, and I will obey. Morgana Pendragon, on behalf of my relatives I say that it is an honour to have you as an ally." He sighed, just the smallest of sighs that wavered with a tremor of fear. "I am Cissa, and I guess I will be responsible for your care while you are with us."

As Morgana allowed him to lead her towards one of the nearby tents, which would soon be cleared of its previous occupant, her thoughts mulled over this youngest son's reaction... Cissa, shadowed over by two strong and confident brothers and a dominating father, was probably the only one to take her warning seriously. Pushed to the background and chained to his father's will, when he may just be the wisest of the four.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: You can probably guess who is who in the title now. Exactly why Cissa is 'the Stoat', will be revealed in Morgana's musings either in part 2 or part 3 :)**


	14. A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat Pt2

**Alaia Skyhawk: Prepare for ANGST! :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 14: A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat ~Part 2~

Those who in passing noticed the icy blue eyes watching them, always hastened in their work as though to escape faster from her gaze. Even those who did not notice her watching them, seemed to pause and shiver as if a chill breeze had curled about their neck.

Morgana sat outside her tent, idly sorting through the handfuls of herbs she'd collected from the surrounding woods. Most were only good for medicinal uses, but it would have been churlish of her not to make what medicines she could in addition to enchantments on gear. Those would take longer, and she'd rather not have Aelle question if the deal was worth it while she waited for the first of her requested materials to be found and brought back.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It wasn't a smirk, but rather it was wistful in a regretful way. No one here, ignorant as they were in the ways and means of magic, would know she'd requested only what would be needed for the most basic of protections. Why even the twig-and-twine charms, that she'd hung about her tent to keep away those who had no business with her, held more power. That their power held only because of her presence close to them, meant nothing. They were still more powerful than the lasting protections Aelle's men would get from the first round of enchantments she would do.

Yet, they would be enough.

Her smile faded and she sighed, still sorting through her herbs with only minor interest.

"Why so sombre, My Lady?"

Cissa's voice made her turn to look, as he regarded her from where he leaned against a nearby tree. As her caretaker, her well-being was always his business, hence her charms had no effect in keeping him away.

She turned her attention back to her 'work'.

"It was a long journey to get here, and I am still somewhat tired from the walk. It is nothing to concern yourself with."

Cissa regarded her, a glint in his eyes seeing her excuse for the lie it was, and he began to stroll over until he reached one of the logs that served as seats around her camp-fire. He then sat, and continued to watch her.

"Then perhaps you should rest more, instead of wandering the woods gathering plants. I've already sent a pair of men to get the supplies you asked for. They should return within a week, and you will have plenty of work to do then."

Morgana snorted softly in scorn.

"Once the infusions are prepared, enchanting the rags your men currently call armour, will be the work of a single day. Even the infusions will take no more than a couple of hours. It's hardly much work at all."

Cissa's eyes narrowed a little.

"But from what _I've_ heard of magic, the more powerful the spell, the greater the preparation needed. I would guess that the more powerful the sorcerer, the easier such magic is, but surely even you would have to prepare properly... That is, if you're not holding back on what spells you choose to use."

There was a pause, almost tense, until the woman opposite him began to laugh quietly.

"Didn't you hear me before? I'd hesitate to call almost anything your men have right now, to be real armour. Why waste my energy and time, and your resources, casting spells of a greater power than is necessary? My spells will give them the advantage they need, against the targets you have the manpower and equipment to strike at right now, and nothing more. When you've succeeded in scrounging up some better weapons and armour, I'll cast the appropriate enchantments on those too."

Silence fell again, as Cissa's mouth creased into a small, thoughtful frown.

"You make a point. Only a fool exhausts themselves and their supplies early in the war, and we also wouldn't want to tip off our targets to the fact we've a powerful sorceress aiding us."

Morgana glanced at him, remarking artlessly.

"You'd probably not want to reveal my association at all. As it is, any other magic users you may recruit, will turn tail and race for the hills the moment they learn that I am working for you. I have rather a reputation among the Magical Community."

"And that would be?"

She raised her eyebrows, her tone taunting.

"That no one who has directly allied themselves with me, or worked alongside me, has lived more than three years after agreeing to do so. The only exception was my sister, but as you can imagine she was a special case."

Cissa started to scowl.

"Are you deliberately _trying_ you make my father execute you?"

Morgana smiled a little too sweetly.

"No. I'm pointing out that your insinuations as to how noble my intentions may be, are as obvious as a sunrise on a clear day." Her smile faded. "I've already made clear my warnings. How you choose to interpret them is up to you, or more accurately, it's up to your father... I doubt he's ever heeded a single word you've ever said."

The response to that was in a clipped tone, tinged with anger.

"But that doesn't make me a _fool._" Cissa stood up and stepped forward to loom over her, seeming to care little that she could throw him across the clearing without batting an eyelash. "If you do _anything_ to sabotage my father, you _will_ regret it."

Morgana looked up at him, suddenly quiet, and she sighed softly.

"The same _blind_ loyalty... You remind me of someone I know well, who I was raised with. He was blind to his father's faults, for _oh so long_. But then he met someone who taught him to see the mistakes his father was making. That person never once acted to harm that man's father, but also did they choose not to step in to save him after his mistakes led to his assassination. In this case, I am no different."

Cissa's tension began to ebb, as curiosity took the place of anger.

"And who do I remind you of?"

Morgana folded her hands across her lap, pointedly looking at the nearby men instead. Her words soft and barely heard above wind and birdsong.

"My brother, Arthur." Only after those startling words did she glance at him again. "Uther was a tyrant, as much of one in his own way as your father clearly is. But Arthur was loyal to him to the point of being blinded to his faults, until Merlin came into his life and helped open his eyes to the truth. In protecting Arthur and Camelot, Merlin ended up protecting Uther as well, but that doesn't mean he cared about him. Merlin's concerns for Uther almost certainly never amounted to much more than wondering if or not Arthur was ready for the throne. But still, his secret uses of magic won Uther a number of victories."

Cissa began to frown again.

"And who then do you act to protect by coming here?"

For a moment it seemed she wouldn't answer, until she suddenly rose to her feet. Stood up, she could almost look him eye-to-eye.

"You're smart, smarter than your father and brothers, and far more cunning. For that reason, I won't lie to you... My being here is to help my brother, but not in the way you think." She reached up and gripped him by the chin. "I am a Seer, and my visions have never shown me false. The path Aelle chooses to walk, is the same regardless of whether I help him or not. The only thing that changes by my being here, is how long it takes him to reach it's conclusion."

She gave Cissa a small shove backwards, her expression grim. "As I warned him, my help will speed him towards his doom... It is Aelle's fate to die as a result of his quest for power. So long as he continues to reach for it, he will welcome his demise with open arms, and neither you nor I can change that. The choice is his, and he listen to neither of us... Just as Uther spent all those years refusing to listen to the wisdom of his son."

She turned to go into her tent, the moment of stunned stillness in Cissa ending with a lunge towards her. But it was not to attack, but instead to stop her from retreating from the conversation. His gaze filled with a kind of denial.

"You're lying!"

He paused, for in the moment he'd grabbed her she'd jolted. Her gaze shifting to some far off place, her eyes widening at some unseen image, before they snapped back to focus on his face.

There was a warning, one that came with an unbearable weight of experience, in the whispered words that followed.

"Aelle's fate is set, as is that of your brothers Cymen and Wlencing. Like wolves who try to take down prey too large for them, they will follow their pack-leader blindly into death beneath it... But for the little brother, the sly and cunning stoat who fits not with the pack, there is a choice. Ride atop the shoulders of their greed, cling to their mantle of arrogance as you join their fate... Or obey your own intuition, and choose a path of your own."

By now there was a hint of plea in her voice, as though begging him to do something she wished to do. It was enough to make him let go in surprise.

"They're the wolves and I'm the stoat? They are my _family_."

Morgana turned again, but this time he didn't try to stop her.

"And for that you have my pity and my regrets. Their destiny is sealed to Arthur's, and it is not the place of I or any other to change that unchangeable path. But _you_ on the other hand, have no set destiny. Your path will always be yours to chose, in the way I wished so long for mine to be. You will never know what it's like to be trapped by destiny until it finally lets you go. I know that pain well. And now that I'm free, I've chosen to come here... For the sake of the innocent lives that will be saved and the earlier arrival of Golden Age, that my sacrifice will buy."

With that, she disappeared into her tent and closed the flap, leaving him stood there in utter stillness as her words churned through his mind.

It was several moments before he could bring himself to move, and several minutes more before he could find the will to head to his father's tent. Aelle, Cymen, and Wlencing were all there, stood over maps of the surrounding regions to discuss what places they would strike first.

They didn't even lift their heads to glance at him when he entered, only the slightest pause in their talk hinting that they were aware of him. He, Cissa, the youngest brother by seven full years. He, the man whose brothers had been taken aside by their father and trained to fight, while he had still been held close by their mother as a mere infant. By the time he was seven and old enough to begin training, his brothers were fourteen and sixteen and leading raiding parties into the lands neighbouring their fiefdom on the mainland...

And then when he was just nine, and studying under the eye of some old veteran who'd finally decided to take interest in Aelle's runt-of-a-youngest-son, the lords of the lands they'd raided for so long petitioned to the King... With terrible consequences.

Lord Aelle was stripped of his title, his lands, and exiled for his crimes. The family were driven from their home, along with what men were willing to follow, and a distant cousin was given the fiefdom in return for an oath of fealty that verged on slavery. Around eighty of Aelle's men had followed their lord, and in the time since their arrival in Albion, two dozen more had joined the ranks.

Retreating from the tent, Cissa's mind dwelt bitterly on those days. Upon the memory of his father killing his mother as 'dead weight', and upon the memory of how in the past fifteen years his own efforts to become a warrior of great skill had ended in him continuing to be ignored by his father and brothers.

It hurt... The agony of admitting that Morgana had spoken truth. She'd seen through years of carefully built appearances, the façade he'd spent so long creating, and struck him to the core with her words. And yet, despite her warning of what would come to pass, he still wanted to save his family from that fate.

"Cymen. As soon as the witch has enchanted our gear, I want you and your brother to bring me as many victories as you can before the arrival of spring. I need _proof_ of our strength, to recruit more men from the mainland. Let that weasel of a cousin rue the day he betrayed us, when my soldiers who stayed behind all abandon him to return to my service."

Aelle's voice was impossible to ignore while still within earshot, and the snort of disgust from Cymen was equally as hard to miss.

"Those turncoats? Why would we _want_ them back?"

"Fodder for the front-lines of our campaigns... Let them think they'll be given a chance for glory in my name. They'll pay for their betrayal in blood soon enough. They can serve as an example of what I'll do to any others who cross me."

Cymen chuckled with a tone of sadistic glee at that announcement, Wlencing and their father joining in a moment later. But for the son outside, there was only a feeling of chill isolation... As part of him clung to the thought that they were his family, that he cared about them, while deep inside him his gut churned in disgust.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: As you may gather, Cissa's loyalty to his family, yet disgust at their actions, are going to be a major theme for him. Poor guy. He's likely going to spend a lot of time either seeking Morgana's advice, or scorning her as a perceived threat to his father... Basically, I'm gonna spend a lot of time screwing with his head :P**


	15. A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat Pt3

**Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next one. For those wondering, Cissa is pronounced "key-sah", Wlencing is "Lencing" (silent w), and Cymen is "K-eye-men" :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Music: **

**~(-)~**

Chapter 15: A Snake, Three Wolves, and the Stoat ~Part 3~

The arrival of the witch changed many things within the camp, as summer rolled through to autumn. As winter then began to make its chill known, until only the most foolhardy bandits and raiders continued to strike at isolated villages and hamlets whose overlords had by now placed soldiers ready in ambush for the misguided wretches that attacked. Yet deep in a valley within the realm of Kent, Aelle's forces had grown as much as his confidence.

The man stood at the front of his tent, gazing across his domain at his how trebled force. Three hundred men, most of them recruited locally, but within two months of spring's arrival he expected that number to double again. Wlencing was already preparing to depart for the mainland, carrying with him an oath to his father to bring back at least three-hundred men. Between those that would come, those that were here, and the power of Morgana's spells on their armour... Against the army of the Saxon King of Kent, Ralvor, it would be like wielding an army of a thousand.

Cissa, standing as usual behind the partial cover of a tree, watched his father from some distance away. As lofty as Aelle's ambitions were, even he knew that an army worth a thousand men wasn't enough to capture Kent. Yet it would be enough to take off a sizeable chunk of it, concentrating around the major trade ports, and hold it.

For those on the mainland who wished to earn lands of their own, when their lords tithed so harshly and handed permissions for new villages so sparingly, Albion was a chance to gain their desire. All Aelle would have to do was promise them rights to settle wherever they wanted, and once he held those ports the potential warriors for his cause would flock to him. And where King Ralvor's family had gained their throne through peaceful marriage alliance, Aelle would seize it with bloody force. Just as he did with everything he wished to own.

Cissa turned away and headed out among the trees, strolling towards Morgana's new abode without consciously choosing to. The increased number of men in the camp, and the expected attitudes of certain of them towards the only woman among them, had resulted in her flinging several of them around and maiming several others in warning just a few weeks previous. She'd then stalked off into the woods, and a search the following day found a small earthen-built cottage with a crude turfed roof a short distance away. And if the dense ring of warding charms wouldn't convince a visitor to keep their business short and to-the-point... the glaring figure of the adjacent white dragon would.

Once again Cissa paused behind a tree, this time to eye the young dragon that lay in the clearing up ahead. Dragons had been relegated to myth on the mainland for generations, and yet here was one before him. Dozing quietly amid a forest coated with frost and half-melted snow. She blended with that background enough that a passing glance would miss her from certain directions, but not from this path. Instead she gleamed in splendour beneath the light of the sun overhead, her scales glittering with every breath.

Cissa moved closer, curious despite the dangers the dragon represented. He'd only ever seen her at a distance, and Morgana had flat out refused to allow any of the men in the camp to approach her. But that in itself only increased the temptation to get 'just a little bit closer' to get a better look.

He was three trees away from the clearing's edge, when one massive blue eye opened and practically pinned him to the spot.

Aithusa watched him for several moments, before letting out a small huff of breath and murmuring quietly.

"You are lucky that Morgana isn't awake. She slept badly last night, troubled by visions, and chose to return to her slumber shortly after noon. Were she awake, you would be in the process of discovering what it is like to be dragged across a snowy forest floor by magic... all the way back to your camp."

Cissa came into the open a little, executing a half-bow of cautious respect.

"And do you object to my presence near you, as much as she does?"

The white dragon raised her head and turned it to regard him fully.

"I neither object nor overly welcome your presence. It would be better to say I am indifferent, in the manner that you would be indifferent to an annoying insect you could step on any time you so chose." She chuckled softly when she saw him twitch in concern. "Fear not, I have no intention of harming you, so long as you remember your father's agreement with Morgana. Not that I would be much assistance for his ambitions against Camelot, for I would never attack that kingdom or any of Arthur's allies. Even if I wished to, which I emphatically do not, Merlin would not allow it."

Cissa had now crept closer, and stood at the clearing's edge. There was only one 'Merlin' she could be referring to.

"You're afraid he'd hurt you? He is powerful enough to harm a dragon?"

Aithusa snorted in amusement at his ignorance.

"He has the power to do so, but would never need to. I can hardly disobey the will of the Last Dragonlord, especially since he is the once who hatched me and gave me my name. He need only command me in the Dragon Tongue, and I would have to do as he says."

Cissa went utterly still in horror. This dragon was under the command of the Court Sorcerer of Camelot? But that would mean...

Before he could voice those thoughts, the dragon smiled. "Have no fear, he would never have me attack you. He'd rather I stay away from any fighting, than take part it in. In that, his and Morgana's wishes are in agreement. I will take no part in the wars of men."

She rose to her feet and with startling speed, grabbed him in one taloned paw and swept up into the sky. Cissa managed to hold in his startled yelp until they were away from Morgana's cottage, but he couldn't help but blanch white in fear at being so high up.

Aithusa didn't go far, and landed in another forest clearing about a mile from the camp. As soon as she let him go, Cissa stumbled away from her to get a comfortable distance.

He then stared at her, still shaken.

"Why did you do that?"

The dragon began to settle herself into a comfortable sprawl once more, her tone amused.

"You are not the only one who is curious. Morgana could wake at any time, and I'd rather not have my conversation with the 'stoat' interrupted."

Cissa blinked at that, and cautiously settled himself on a fallen log.

"She told you about that?"

Aithusa regarded him with a gaze that seemed to peer through his soul.

"While I am no Seer, dragons possess an ability to foresee important destinies and events that will soon play out before them. I am thus an ideal individual for her to confide in when discussing her visions. Naturally, she told me what she'd glimpsed for you, and it left me intrigued. You are rather different from your father and siblings. Were you not, you would have been bound to share Aelle's destiny along with your brothers."

The man before her tensed, his fists clenching in his lap as he gritted his teeth. It appeared she'd struck a nerve.

"She's _wrong!_ My father will succeed, and me and my brothers will succeed alongside him. He won't stop until he rules all these lands. He will have them, or he will die trying."

"Exactly." Aithusa's blunt response knocked the force out of Cissa's tirade, and she continued in a thoughtful tone. "Let me tell you exactly what it is that your father will face, once he begins to confront Arthur Pendragon and his allies. Camelot's army is the finest in all of Albion, and all who fight within it can be considered at least the equivalent of two men on the battlefield. His Knights could be considered the equal of _ten_, and he has more than a hundred of those."

Cissa frowned.

"That doesn't matter. Not with the size of army my father intends to raise."

Aithusa sighed at his stubbornness.

"Arthur has access to the finest warhorses ever bred, the finest medicines and healers to support his army. His Kingdom is surrounded on all sides by powerful allies, and they will not hesitate to band their armies together to assist him. To reach Camelot directly, you would have to go through Escetia. And King Fyrendir's army is almost as mighty as Arthur's, and just as well supported and supplied."

Cissa rose to his feet in defiance.

"And we have Morgana, the most powerful witch to have existed in centuries."

The dragon's voice turned cold.

"And Arthur has Merlin Emrys, the most powerful wielder of magic who will _ever_ exist. Never again in all of eternity, will there come to be another individual as mighty as him." She loomed up over the man before her, causing him to cower. "He is the Leader of the Old Religion, and soon to be Lord of all Druids. Once he has both, he will be the Lord of All Magic, and all but a handful of rogues sorcerers like Morgana will swear to his authority... And his loyalty will always belong to Arthur."

She sank back onto her haunches, giving the man before her a bit of space. "Anyone who threatens the Once and Future King, will potentially face the fury of _thousands upon thousands_ of magic wielders. Even a hedgewizard can bring down a dozen men with a handful of words, herbs, and some twine, and he wouldn't even have to target them directly. Morgana's magic will only do so much, and only against certain situations. Against those who know magic well, and ways around it, her protections will only have minor effect no matter how powerful she makes them."

Aithusa looked away, seemingly angry at him, and yet there was a sort of sadness in her eyes. Cissa remained where he was, watching her, even as her words troubled him. The scenario she'd described truly was a hopeless battle.

He next quiet words startled her.

"I'll try and bring him to see reason." Cissa's expression was sombre as he continued. "Maybe I can talk him into being satisfied with the Throne of Kent, or maybe with gaining a kingdom for each me and my brothers. Maybe four realms will be enough that I can get through to him."

As the dragon regarded him, sadness returned to her eyes.

"Or maybe he will continue his rampage... Driven by the same lust for power that once blighted Morgana's life. Aelle believes that becoming ruler of all of Albion will grant him satisfaction, after the humiliation of losing his fiefdom on the mainland. Much as Morgana once believed in her heart that taking Camelot's throne would end her time as an outcast, and grant her retribution against the tyranny of her father. Yet all it brought her was pain and misery."

Cissa circled round to stand directly in front of Aithusa, gazing up at her with stubborn determination.

"I can still try. I won't give up on my father. Not until I'm certain he'll never turn back."

Aithusa sighed.

"Then you are, as Morgana said, very much like Arthur. The King of Camelot didn't give up on the hope of turning her back from darkness, not until the day she tried to get the woman he loved, killed. Guinevere, who now stands beside Arthur as his Queen, was once Morgana's maidservant and greatest friend. The betrayal Morgana was guilty of that day, convinced Arthur that there was no longer any hope of saving her. In his heart, she became little more than his enemy from that point on... My gift of foresight concurs with Morgana's vision of your path ahead. A day will come when you will be faced with a similar choice. When it does, choose wisely, but until then I would ask you to do something for me."

Cissa blinked, startled, and then frowned a little.

"What could a mighty dragon such as yourself, ask of me?"

Aithusa lowered her head so that her eyes were level with his.

"Aelle has ordered you to be her caretaker, but I would _ask_ you to be her protector and friend. Shield her from your father and brothers, and learn all that she can teach you about the follies he intends to commit. From her experiences, you will come to see and understand the path of destiny that your father clings to, and the terrible price it will exact from him... For while it is true you have no pre-ordained destiny of your own, you are still capable of creating one for yourself. It is up to you if you will be remembered as the son of a man who would murder his own wife in cold blood, and instigate the slaughter of countless people. Or if you will be remembered as a man who went against his brutal father in the name of doing what was right."

Without saying anything more, Aithusa quickly spread her wings and leapt up into the air, yet a few final words from her echoed as if within his head.

_I see into your heart, and have seen what you might become. Will you mend her bond to her family, at the cost of turning on your own? Will you chose that, Redeemer of the Witch?_

Cissa choked back a gasp as he heard it, emotions warring within him as he turned to head back to the camp. Yet much as when he'd chosen a direction earlier without thinking, half an hour later he once again found himself at the edge of the clearing where Morgana's earthen cottage lay... And once again he stood partly concealed by a tree, watching her as he had watched his father. And he saw not the witch, but the fragile woman whose heart and spirit were broken as she gazed distantly towards the sky. Lost in thought, until the sight of Aithusa winging down towards her brought a smile like a blessing to her face.

He saw the dragon glance at him discretely as she landed, a silent question in that moment's meeting of eyes. And in response, Cissa stepped from behind his tree and openly strode into the clearing. Yet before Morgana could react, her sudden scowl indicating she was about to demand he leave, he instead faced the dragon and bowed to her respectfully.

And then, in Morgana's startled pause that followed, he went up to the witch and offered his arm in the manner of a man at court.

"It is nearly time for the evening meal. If you would allow it, I will make sure that none of the men bother you."

There was a softness in his voice as he said it, overlaying strength and honourable intentions. But that wasn't what made her eyes widen, but rather the hesitant and small smile he directed at her when he said it. Like the most tentative of queries, from the first human to offer her friendship in many many years.

Morgana's expression was tense, her eyes searching his face for any sign of a ruse, but she found none. And then, in a sight enough to make his breath catch in his throat at it's rarity, she returned his smile with a small one of her own. A true smile of gratitude as she hooked her hand in to the crook of the offered arm.

"I would be glad of that, Lord Cissa, and thank you."

Aithusa watched the pair of them walk away, catching the moment when Cissa glanced at her with the smallest of nods. He would do as asked and protect Morgana, be the friend she needed, and keep in mind the things he could learn from her.

But for now there was one thing he couldn't decide, and nor would he be able to for a very long time. Aelle or Morgana; which would he follow? Would he chose to try save a father who fate said could not be saved, or the broken witch who had once been very much like that man? Family or friend?

Which would be worth more to him in the end? Only time would tell.

~(-)~

**Alaia Skyhawk: Yay for Aithusa! I wanted to make sure she got a good bit in this event, and talking to Cissa was perfect for it. And as you may guess by this point, Morgana **_**will**_** get her eventual redemption. I want the old Morgana back, as I'm sure all of you do too :)**


End file.
